The Ministry
by WolfsbaneKnight
Summary: The Ministry of Magic is a place where nothing ever stops. Take a dip into the day to day lives of the senior staff as they fight to keep the country running, with obstacles and hurdles appearing from the most unlikely of places. Experience sadness, joy, laughter and tears as you enter the rollercoaster world of The Ministry. [Inspired by The West Wing]
1. Skeeter

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello everyone. Before I begin with my story I'd just like to say a few things, firstly that if you have read my current works (the HP/Pokemon crossover) this will be very different, primarily of course because this is not a Harry Potter/Pokemon crossover.

Second thing I'd like to mention is that I was tempted to put this under the category of crossover but I decided against it. For those of you who have seen the political tv drama 'The West Wing' you'll recognise a lot of the style and themes from the show as it was my inspiration for writing this. However none of the characters from 'The West Wing' appear or are ever mentioned so I felt that this probably counted as a single universe piece.

If you have never seen 'The West Wing' then first, I'd highly recommend it, and second you don't need to to follow the story or understand it. As I said above this isn't really a proper crossover.

With that out of the way I'll get the story started. Enjoy.

* * *

Harry Potter scanned over the last few lines he'd written, quill held poised in his grasp as he mentally repeated the words to himself, mulling them over in his head. Setting down the still incomplete monologue Harry reached across his desk for his official Ministry mug, draining the last few dregs of his now cold coffee.

Harry's face twitched in annoyance as he reached the end of his drink, placing the mug back down on his desk with a fleeting scowl before picking up the speech again, mind returned to full focus on the task at hand.

"Hey."

Harry looked up, parchment still raised to his face for inspection.

"Hey," he replied, gently setting the parchment and quill back on his desk and leaning back in his chair. "What's up?"

Neville Longbottom shuffled slightly, hands in his pockets as he stood in the open doorway to Harry's office. "Nothing, really," Neville murmured absently, glancing around the room as he spoke. "What about you?"

Harry paused before answering, slightly wary of Neville's unusual behaviour. "I was just drafting a speech for the trade bill the Minister hinted he might need," he replied, going to take a drink from his coffee mug before belatedly remembering it was empty.

"I thought we agreed he wouldn't get asked about it," Neville said, frowning slightly.

Harry shrugged. "It's a big issue," he replied simply. "It never hurts to be prepared. I've just penned a quick first draft; just some basic guidelines for the Minister to follow. What to focus on, what to avoid…"

"How long did this take you?" Neville asked, picking the scroll of parchment off Harry's desk and glancing over it briefly.

"I admit it took a while," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck subconsciously. "I've been here working on this since about midnight. I Just couldn't get it out of my head and it's been bugging me all-"

"Weren't you supposed to be on a date last night?" Neville cut across, trying to think if he remembered correctly.

"Well, yeah," Harry replied, leaning forward again in his seat. "But, eh, complications arose." Harry looked down, fiddling distractedly with his quill.

"Is everything-?" Neville started cautiously.

"Everything's alright between me and Ginny," Harry quickly assured him, dropping his quill as he looked up. "There was just a nasty potions spill at the lab and she had to stay behind to clear it up." Harry shuddered slightly in his seat. "It sounded disgusting."

Neville was about to speak when he was interrupted by someone knocking on the open door. "Harry, Hermione wants to see you as soon as possible," Cho Chang informed him as Neville stood aside to reveal her in the doorway.

"You know what it's about?" Harry asked his assistant.

"She didn't mention," Cho replied, adjusting the folders crammed under her arms as she stood there.

"Alright, well I guess I'll go see her now," Harry said, rising to his feet. "Thanks, Cho." Cho nodded to him as she left the room, walking briskly back into the growing throng of people populating the ministry building at the early hour of the morning.

"Hopefully Hermione doesn't have anything of significance to tell me," Harry said, pulling on his robes as he prepared to leave his office. "Although why else she'd call me, I do not know." He paused abruptly. "Wait, what were you here for?"

Neville shrugged slightly, hands back in his pockets. "It's nothing really," he dismissed. "It'll wait."

"No, really, tell me and I'll get back to you after I see Hermione," Harry pressed, still absentmindedly organising notes on his desk as he spoke.

Neville seemed to have an internal battle with himself before he sighed and gave in. "I have nothing to do."

Harry looked up, suddenly completely still. "You have nothing to do," Harry repeated slowly, stressing out each individual word. "Nothing?"

Neville nodded bashfully.

"Seriously," Harry said incredulously. "I've got a stack of paperwork taller than my desk and you've got _nothing_?"

"I know," Neville agreed. "It's ridiculous."

"Ridiculous," Harry repeated with an incredulous, humourless laugh. "Neville, you are the Deputy Chief of Staff for the Minister of Magic."

"I know," Neville agreed, seeming to be regretting speaking. "It's ridiculous but Amos has delegated everything else. I literally have nothing left to do."

Harry just stared at Neville in disbelief. "Get out," Harry said, gesturing to the door. "Seriously, and don't talk to me again until you've got a backlog bigger than mine."

"Sorry, Harry," Neville replied, slipping out of Harry's office as quickly as he had come.

"Seriously," Harry muttered under his breath, finishing rearranging his papers and heading for the door. "Cho!"

"Yes," he heard from the staff cubicles, Cho's dark hair standing out over the partition walls.

"I'm going to see Hermione, when I come back I want our files on the Herbologist's Union I'm supposed to be meeting tomorrow… and some coffee," he added as he strode round the square of cubicles in the centre of the room. "Get me a doughnut as well, I like jam." He finished.

"I know," Cho muttered, starting to move into action as soon as he'd finished speaking, only briefly watching him as he strode through the corridors and out of sight.

"Hey Harry," Ron Weasley greeted as he fell into step beside him, appearing as if from nowhere. "I hear you're off to see Hermione."

"Yep," Harry replied briskly, taking a turn into another corridor, Ron matching his movements. "Happen to know what it's about?"

Ron shook his head. "Haven't the foggiest," he replied, smiling at a passing office worker he happened to know. "But if I've learnt anything from this job it's that it is never good when Hermione is the one calling you over."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry sighed, already exhausted from his all-nighter. "Do you have anything else to say to me?"

Ron shook his head, puffing out his cheeks as he did so. "Nope," he replied.

"Then why are you walking with me?" Harry replied, slightly irritably.

"I was bored," Ron replied with a shrug. "I've just been wandering around and I thought you might be able to interest me. You haven't, by the way."

"Well, sorry," Harry said sarcastically. "Don't you have work to be doing?"

Ron shrugged. "Not really."

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Ron with consternation. "Seriously, you too." Ron just looked back with a rather alarmed expression. "Tell you what, go find Neville and beg Amos to give you some work," Harry retorted, his face holding a stormy expression. "I've got a meeting."

He pulled off down a side corridor and into a small reception room where he found a secretary sitting at her desk, scribbling away on a piece of parchment as she sat surrounded by papers.

"Hey Demelza, busy?" Harry asked, eyes glancing only half interestedly at the many stacks of parchment surrounding her.

"The Glasgow report," Demelza replied as a way of answering, waving an arm vaguely over the stacks of parchment.

"Good," Harry replied. "At least I'm not the only one working around here." Harry sighed, trying to calm himself a bit. "Is Hermione in?"

"Just go right in, she's waiting for you," Demelza responded, already having turned her attention back to her work. Harry moved over to the large oak door, glancing back at the swamped Demelza as he knocked, entering as he received a call from inside.

"You wanted to see me," he said, hand on the door in case he needed to close it.

Hermione looked up at him from where she was reading, staring piercingly at him through her thin reading glasses. "Close the door."

Harry sighed to himself softly as he did so, knowing the conversation that was about to follow would not be good. He moved over to the seat in front of Hermione's desk but she gestured for him to take one of the armchairs at the other side of the room, joining him with a file sitting in her lap.

"Please just tell me," Harry said as Hermione seemed to freeze up. "If it's really as bad as I think it is it'll hurt more if we draw it out."

Hermione nodded. Taking a brief breath she put her hand into her file and pulled out a copy of Witch Weekly, causing Harry's eyebrows to raise in surprise.

"There's been an article," Hermione said, delicately opening the magazine to a predetermined page.

"In Witch Weekly?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione nodded. "Rita Skeeter wrote an article about you and Minister Weasley's daughter."

"Ginny?" Harry responded. "How's she got into this, how did Skeeter even find out we were dating?"

"I don't know," Hermione responded apprehensively. "But that's not really the issue. Skeeter has reported that a month ago you and Ginny spent the weekend together at a hotel in Yorkshire."

Harry blinked. "So?" he asked, nonplussed. "What's the problem?"

Hermione sighed. "Harry, the hotel was called 'The Brewer' and has a bad reputation. Drugs, Gambling, Prostitution, the only reason the auror's haven't already busted this place is because they haven't been able to get a warrant. I need to ask if any of this is true."

"What!?" Harry said incredulously. "No, it's all lies. Where on earth does Skeeter get this stuff from?"

"You were on holiday that weekend," Hermione pressed him. "Obviously some of what she has said is true."

"I don't believe this," Harry muttered, rising to his feet angrily and turning his back on Hermione. "I don't believe this."

"Well it's true," Hermione retorted to the back of his head. "And I need you to tell me."

"You believe this story," Harry rounded on her, looking down at her in disbelief. "Unbelievable, I never thought you'd be so narrow minded and stupid-"

"It's my job," Hermione raised her voice, rising to her feet and cutting through Harry mid rant. "Of course I don't believe this but guess what, I'm this Ministries' Press Secretary and I'm the one who's going to be dealing with the fallout of this article. Now I need you to tell me everything so I can get you out of trouble."

Everything was silent for a moment as the two colleagues stared at each other, each panting slightly from their argument. Eventually, Harry's shoulders slumped.

"A month ago I did have the weekend off," he admitted. "I did spend it with Ginny but I did not visit that hotel and neither did Ginny. We spent the entire weekend at my place."

"Can anyone confirm that?" Hermione asked, her voice soft again.

"We were alone all weekend," Harry explained. "The Auror department had to check out my place for safety concerns before the Minister's daughter could stay there, I suppose they'll have some record of that."

"But no one can confirm you were there the whole weekend," Hermione pressed.

"Our Auror guard can confirm that we were not seen leaving my house all weekend," Harry replied, starting to calm down slightly.

Hermione nodded, scribbling something down on a sheet of parchment on her desk. "And I can assume you don't do drugs, or pay for prostitutes?"

"I don't gamble either," Harry replied.

"But you do drink," Hermione pressed.

Harry shrugged. "On occasion, but not much," he replied. "When I do drink I generally do it when I'm in my own home and by myself." There was a brief silence. "God, does that sound sad."

Hermione nodded absentmindedly, clearly not having really heard him as she scribbled away.

"Hermione," Harry said suspiciously, eyes focused on the tightness of her facial muscles. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, eyes scanning her face for an answer. "Something more?"

Hermione didn't look at him immediately, but her hand stopped moving and the sound of quill scratching on parchment faded away. "There was, actually," Hermione said, finally turning to face Harry, placing her quill gingerly on her desk. "While I completely believe everything you've told me, there's just… well…"

"What?" Harry asked, a sinking feeling in his chest.

"There's pictures," Hermione replied. "You and Ginny entering 'The Brewer', the two of you kissing and engaging in… other adult activities."

Harry was stunned. "How?" he gasped, his eyes wide as saucers. "You've got the pictures?" Hermione nodded, pulling a small pile of moving pictures from behind her desk and handing them over to him. Looking through the first few, Harry had to sit down as they become more graphic. "The pictures…" Harry said faintly. "They've not been-"

"The editors thought the images were too graphic for the magazine and have withheld them from printing," Hermione responded quickly, trying to ease his concerns. "They have attached the picture of you and Ginny entering the hotel to their article though."

"How did they get pictures like this?" Harry barely whispered, his face white as he scanned the photos in his hands.

"I don't know yet," Hermione admitted. "I wanted to inform you of what was happening as soon as I could."

"Who else knows?" Harry asked, deliberately putting the pictures face down on the side table next to him.

"At the moment," Hermione replied. "You, me, Amos, the Witch Weekly editors and Rita Skeeter."

"What about the article, who's read it?"

"Just the same people," Hermione assured him. "The magazine goes to print this afternoon, hopefully we'll be able to gather evidence that proves you were not at that hotel last month and stop it reaching the public."

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily under his glasses, wondering how his day could take such a sudden turn for the worst. "The Minister doesn't know yet?" he asked, trying not to imagine what would happen when he found out.

"Amos is going to brief him when he gets in to the office," Hermione replied sympathetically.

"Don't let him see those photos, Hermione," Harry warned, glancing furtively at the stack of facedown photos. "No father should ever see their daughter like that."

Hermione nodded in agreement, images flashing across her mind that she was sure the Minister really shouldn't see. "It'll be alright, Harry," she said soothingly, moving over to retake her seat next to him.

Harry gave a grunted snort. "You think so," he replied, his mouth snarling slightly as he spoke. "Complete strangers are seeing me and my girlfriend in our most private moments and now not only are we going to look bad to the public but our political opponents are going to take any excuse they can to use this to discredit our administration."

Harry's eyes started to water slightly as he fought his emotions. "There are only two things that constitute my life right now," he said, brandishing two fingers. "And because of Skeeter, both of those are going to be destroyed in the next 24 hours." Harry placed his head in his hands. "I honestly can't believe this is happening."

"I'm going to fix this Harry," Hermione told him. "We're going to expose Skeeter long before Witch Weekly are ready to print."

Harry smiled wanly. "I hope you're right," he said. "I hope you're right."

* * *

Michael Corner scratched away on his assignment, reporting under the bright desk light on the latest press conference he'd attended. At the desk across from him the reporter from the Evening Prophet was just arriving, an entire hour later than himself. Suddenly he felt another presence. Someone was now standing over his shoulder.

"Michael, Hermione wants to see you in her office."

He turned from his work to see Demelza Robins standing there, looking rather exhausted. "Is this on or off the record?" he asked, his hand moving towards his dictation quill.

"Off," Demelza replied, halting Michael's hand.

"Alright, I'll be right there," he replied. Demelza nodded swiftly and swished out of the press room without another word, clearly very busy. Michael had to wonder what could have got the usually talkative secretary into such a dour mood but knew better than to question as he pulled his robe over his shoulders and followed at a brisk pace.

Demelza had already disappeared by the time Michael had started moving but Michael had long since memorised the way to Hermione's office, having met with her on numerous occasions when the Ministry wished to leak information through the press.

He got a few nods and smiles as he walked through the hallways which he returned with a genial expression. He was a popular figure in the ministry and he knew it, and it had done his career good on more than one occasion to have such a good relationship with the Ministry staff.

Reaching Hermione's office he found the door open and waiting for him. Nodding to Demelza, who barely spared him a glance as he passed, Michael entered the room.

"Maybe, one day you'll come visit me in my office," he said as he stepped into the room. "I'm starting to feel more like a puppy than a partner in this relationship."

Hermione looked up at him with a deadpan stare, a sheet of parchment lying before her that she'd clearly been studying. "You feel like a puppy?" she said sardonically, raising an eyebrow at him.

Michael shrugged, sticking his hands casually in his pocket. "Sometimes."

"Good," Hermione responded, standing up from her desk and briskly walking around it. "Could you close the door, please?"

Michael turned back and shut the door behind him. "You wanted to talk to me," he said, facing the room and noting Hermione fiddling with the drawers of her desk. "Is this a story you want leaked or do you just want some advice?"

"The advice thing," Hermione responded tightly. "Have you heard anything going on with Witch Weekly recently?"

"No," Michael replied. "But then again no one really does, they never have anything interesting news-wise so it's not worth the attention." He raise an eyebrow at her. "They have a story?"

"You haven't heard of an article written by journalist Rita Skeeter for Witch Weekly, have you?" Hermione pressed, trying to push past Michael's surprise.

"Rita Skeeter isn't a journalist," Michael corrected. "And no, I wouldn't have thought anything she printed to be any more than mindless gossip."

Hermione placed her copy of Witch Weekly on her desk and pushed it towards Michael at the relevant page. "Rita Skeeter has written this article reporting that our Communications Director Harry Potter is having an affair with the Minister's daughter Ginny Weasley and that they spent a weekend together a month ago at 'The Brewer'."

"'The Brewer'," Michael repeated warily. "The gambling hotel."

"Gambling, drugs, prostitution," Hermione agreed. "Pretty much every law we make is undoubtedly being broken there."

"This is what's bothering you?" Michael again raised an eyebrow at her. "Hermione, is this true?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Aurors confirm that Harry and Ginny spent the weekend at his place."

"So they are having an affair?" Michael pressed.

"They're having a relationship," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Neither of them have any commitment to anyone but each other."

"So what's the problem?" Michael asked. "This article gets published, you come see us in the press room and tell us everything you just told me. We report it and both Harry and Ginny are in the clear by the end of the day."

"It's not that simple," Hermione defended.

"But it is," Michael laughed. "Hermione, if you do absolutely nothing I swear that's how it'll pan out."

"There were pictures, Michael," Hermione cut in.

Michael's expression changed quickly. "But you said the story was false."

"It is," Hermione argued. "That's why I called you here. We have eye witness accounts contradicting the story so the pictures must have been falsified, and I don't know how to check because the pictures look perfectly real to me."

"Can I see them?" Michael asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

Hermione pursed her lips. "The photos are of a, eh, sensitive nature," Hermione hedged.

"What do you-oh," Michael caught on suddenly, his eyes going wide. He hesitated for a second, then continued. "I need to see them," he said firmly. "I can't help you if I can't see them."

Hermione hesitated, fingers fidgeting on her desk as she thought it through. With a sigh she shifted back around her desk, pulling open her draw and passing over the photos without looking at them.

Michael looked through the pictures carefully, trying his best to ignore the subjects of the photos in preference of any telltale sign of forgery. He lay them down on the desk and spread them out so he could examine each of them at the same time.

"They're real," he announced. Hermione looked up at him in shock. "Except that one," Michael amended, pointing to a photo of Harry and Ginny kissing passionately outside the entrance of the hotel, the 'The Brewer' sign clearly visible in the background.

"They're all real except one?" Hermione asked in astonishment. "If the other photos were real why would she bother fabricating another."

"She needed it," Michael said, still examining the photos. "Get over yourself and come look at these pictures."

Hermione felt a bit of resentment at the admonishment but rounded her desk anyway, trying to forget that she knew the people pictured before her.

"Look at these two," Michael said, pulling a couple of pictures away from the rest. "Apart from the fake these are the only pictures taken outside the Brewer. You can see two figures from a distance approaching the hotel from the motorway."

"Harry and Ginny," Hermione commented.

"I'm not so sure," Michael replied. "These photos have been taken from very far away, these people could be anyone."

"Maybe," Hermione responded. "But the other pictures are definitely them."

"Yes, that's true," Michael admitted. "But take a closer look." Hermione unwillingly bent closer to examine the photos. "Nothing in these photos gives any hint as to where they actually are," Michael said. "Nothing. They could have been in any one of thousands of hotels across the country, indeed, across the world. The only picture that has Harry and Ginny recognisably at 'The Brewer' is the fake one."

"Which is why she made it," Hermione caught on. "The other pictures aren't enough evidence to suggest that they were ever there."

"It's this picture that damns you," Michael agreed. "And therefore it is the weak spot of Skeeter's accusations." Michael leaned back slightly, satisfied with his success. "This is all off the record, isn't it."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, gathering up the pictures and shoving them back in her desk. "Now that we know the photo isn't real we should be able to cancel the article before it reaches printing this afternoon."

"You better hope it does," Michael warned. "Because if the article gets published and other people get hold of these pictures I'm going to have to report on it myself."

"The article won't get printed," Hermione denied. "We've got evidence that not only contradicts the article itself but brings its evidence under suspicion."

"No, you don't," Michael retorted. "You have my suspicion that the photo is fake, but I'm no expert. You need someone to prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that the picture is fabricated."

"And who can do that?" Hermione asked.

"No idea," Michael replied simply.

"Geez, you're helpful," Hermione told him with a glower.

"Hey," Michael said, holding his hands up as if to proclaim his innocence. "I have been very helpful. Not many journalists would have done this for you."

Hermione sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry," she said apologetically.

"So what do I get?" Michael asked expectantly, looking at her with a patient energy.

"What?" Hermione asked, taken aback.

"Come on, Hermione, you know how this works," Michael told her condescendingly. "I help you out in exchange for inside information to take back to my editor." Michael paused, fishing a hand into his pocket and pulling out a notebook, flipping it open and preparing to write. "Is there any truth that a Minimum Wage Amendment is being added to the trade bill?"

Hermione sighed. "No," she said bluntly.

"Hermione, this doesn't work if you don't give me something," Michael pressed warningly.

"I am giving you something," Hermione argued. "I'm giving you the information so you know not to waste your time. There is absolutely nothing to the rumour, so take my hint and focus on something else."

"Hermione," Demelza spoke from the doorway, having quickly knocked and entered. "The Minister would like to see you."

"Now?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer. Demelza nodded. "Okay, I'll be right there. Michael," she turned to him as she began to leave. "This conversation never happened."

"Understood," Michael replied. "It was nice seeing you!" He called humorously after her as she swept away, leaving him alone in her office.

* * *

"I know what you're saying, sir," Harry said, speaking into the small floo system sitting on his desk. "But if we make the taxes on foreign imports any higher we're going to start to lose votes for it, too many to still get the bill through."

"I know your predicament Harry and I'm trying to be helpful, but I can't in good faith support a bill that falls so short from the standards necessary," a voice replied from his floo-phone. "The current tax percentage will not have as much effect as the Ministry seems to believe, will not have the effect necessary to boost our own production."

"I know, I agree," Harry responded. "But we can't pass a bill at those rates. By passing this bill we'll be able to show some of those in opposition the benefit and necessity of even higher rates in the future. This is no final solution but it is a necessary and crucial step." Harry looked up, noticing Ron standing at his door, waiting patiently. "Look, there's a lot going on right now, can you please come in to the Ministry so we can talk face to face."

"I'm still not convinced," the voice replied obstinately.

"I know," Harry intervened. "But I need to talk to you properly and not just over the phone. Will you come in?" There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Alright, I'll be there sometime later today," the voice conceded. "Good luck with whatever's going on over there."

"Thanks David," Harry replied, relieved. There was a murmured goodbye before the connection was cut.

"David Woods?" Ron asked. "Warlock of the Wizengamot?"

"Yep," Harry nodded. "He's not convinced by our import taxes."

"Raising the import taxes by much more than what this bill recommends is bound to ruin our foreign relations," Ron argued.

"I know," Harry agreed, leaning back tiredly in his seat. "But Warlock Woods doesn't agree, and there are plenty of people in the Wizengamot ready to follow his lead, whichever way he may swing. Amos wanted me to speak to him since he knows me quite well, couldn't stress enough how close this vote is likely to be."

Ron nodded. "Makes sense," he agreed. "How are you doing?"

Harry opened his eyes and gazed back at Ron who had now stepped properly into his office. "You've heard."

"Amos told me and Neville after he informed the Minister," Ron told him. "I just wanted to let you know that I support you."

"You do?" Harry raised his eyebrows slightly. "I thought you'd be first in line to batter me with a beater's bat after hearing these allegations."

"That's a bit insulting," Ron argued. "You should know me better than that."

"You know about the photographs?" Harry asked. "Of me and your sister?"

Ron swallowed hard. "Yes, I do," he said slowly. "And while the idea of my sister in any kind of situation like that is not something I ever want to think about, I'm glad it's with you and not some good-for-nothing stranger I've never met."

"Really?" Harry replied, his tone both surprised and impressed.

"Yes," Ron said firmly, taking a seat across the desk from him. "You're my friend, Harry, my best friend. I know my sister isn't a kid anymore and that one day she'll undoubtedly have a family of her own that she'll only be able to get by doing things I don't want to think about." Ron stopped, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts. "I know you'll take care of my sister no matter what, and that's all I could ever ask from you."

There was silence for a moment as Ron's words settled around the room. "Thank you, Ron," Harry said eventually. "To hear that from you… it really means a lot to me."

"Don't mention it," Ron dismissed, his ears turning red with embarrassment. There was a bit more silence.

"Did you just give me your blessing to marry your sister?" Harry said suddenly.

Ron jumped a bit before regaining his composure. "Not anytime soon, I'm not," he growled back which caused Harry to laugh, the atmosphere in the room lightening as the two friends relaxed in each others company.

"So how are you doing?" Ron asked, bringing Harry back to the point.

"Not bad," Harry said with a sigh. "Hermione's working to sort this out."

"Yeah?" Ron said.

"I trust her," Harry added.

"Me too," Ron agreed. "You talked to Ginny yet?"

Harry nodded. "Called her as soon as I finished with Hermione," he replied, snorting as he relived the conversation. "She was raging, ready to hunt Skeeter down and put her in a body bag. I managed to get her to calm down a bit but god only knows how long that'll last."

"Hermione will sort this out," Ron told him. "In the meantime we've still got work to do. Neville mentioned you'd made a draft for the Minister's speech tomorrow?"

"It's not quite finished," Harry said, searching through piles of parchment on his desk. "I'm still working on responses to any question on the trade bill but-"

He was cut off by a knock on his door. "Sorry to interrupt," Colin Creevey announced as Harry and Ron turned to him. "But the Minister wants to see you in his office."

"Thanks Colin," Ron said, standing up from his chair as he prepared to leave. "We'll talk about the speech when I get back."

"Actually," Colin spoke up again. "The Minister wants to see both of you."

Ron turned back to Harry expectantly. "Ready?"

"No," Harry responded glumly as he rose from his chair. "But who's ever ready for this?"

"That's the spirit," Ron said, slapping him on the back as he followed him out of his office.

"Harry," Cho said as she spotted him. "The Minister-"

"I'm on it," Harry cut her off as he strode swiftly away.

"Hey, you guys going to the Minister's office," Neville said as he bumped into them in the hallway, the three of them matching strides as they made their way forward.

"Yep, it'll be about the Skeeter thing," Ron said as he swerved slightly to avoid an overloaded assistant.

"I heard," Neville said. "How are you, Harry?"

"Fine," Harry said shortly, walking faster so the other two had to hurry slightly to keep up. They eventually reached the outer office, greeting the Minister's assistant, Daphne Greengrass, as they passed.

"Hey Blaise," Ron said as they walked towards the office door.

"Just go right in," said Blaise Zabini, Personal Aide to the Minister, gesturing to the open door where the sound of voices could be heard.

"He's confident?" Chief of Staff, Amos Diggory, was saying as the three men walked into the office.

"Supremely," Hermione replied. "And when you think about it the story makes complete sense."

"Maybe," Minister Arthur Weasley said, leaning against his magnificent desk as he surveyed the three newcomers, noting how his Communications Director, Harry Potter, was avoiding his gaze. "Hermione, for the sake of the boys why don't you repeat what you've just told us."

"Certainly sir," Hermione said promptly. Turning to the boys, she continued, "I spoke to Michael Corner of the Daily Prophet about the article."

"Off the record?" Ron asked seriously.

Hermione nodded. "He understood the difficulty of our position after learning about the photos, and after investigating said photos managed to ascertain that one of them was fake."

"Just one?" Neville asked in surprise.

"The other photos prove nothing about the truth behind the article," Amos explained. "There are photos with blurry figures outside the hotel and photos of Harry and Ginny. The only photo to conclusively link the couple to the building is the one we believe to be fraudulent."

"That's right," Hermione agreed.

"So we simply expose the fraudulent picture," Ron said.

"Expose the picture to the Witch Weekly editors, force them to retract the article and if they proceed with the article anyway we take them to court for slander, and surely win," Neville summarised simply. "Case closed."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "There was just one thing to take note of." Everyone in the room turned to give her their full attention. "Michael was of the belief that his word alone will not be enough to bury the article."

"What else would we need?" Harry asked quietly.

"Proof that the photo is fake," Hermione answered. "Personally I believe we have enough but I thought I should mention it."

Minister Weasley nodded. "Good work, Hermione," he said. "What we'll do is invite the editors over for a meeting; have Neville talk to them. In the mean time, Ron, you look up ways of proving the picture's a fake."

"Yes, sir," Ron said, moving to take his leave.

"Other than that lets just keep going as usual," Minister Weasley said. "Hopefully by tomorrow we'll have put this awful business behind us." Taking that as a dismissal the staff started to leave the office. "Harry, could you stick around for a moment?"

Harry waited patiently as the others exited the room, Ron giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder as he went. There was quiet in the office as Harry waited for the Minister to speak.

"Do you want to know how I feel about this?" the Minister said eventually, still leaning across his desk. "Furious."

Harry swallowed in spite of himself.

"To think that this could happen," Minister Weasley muttered, shaking his head angrily. "My own daughter." He stopped to reign in his emotions. "I'll tell you something, Harry," he said, looking straight at him with a piercing stare. "Rita Skeeter is going to regret this."

"Sir?" Harry blinked in surprise.

"Oh yes," the Minister spoke. "She took a step too far here. She invaded the privacy of my daughter in a way I would not expect of even my worst enemies." He took a breath to calm himself. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"You're sorry, sir?" Harry replied, unsure.

"That you have to go through all this," the Minister continued. "This is your life. These pictures Skeeter is trying to spread around are of moments that should be shared only between the two of you."

"I may be Ginny's father, Harry," he said. "But I know she's not the little princess I used to carry around in my arms when she got tired of walking. She's a grown woman now, and in an adult relationship with a good man. I'm proud of her."

"And I'm proud of you," he said sincerely.

"Proud of me, sir?" Harry replied.

Minister Weasley nodded. "The way you've handled this has been impressive," he said. "Most men would have been uncontrollable with rage or despair. But you've fought through that and are still working as hard as you can. So I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

"I'm glad," said the Minister. "Even now I still approve of your relationship, and I'm sure that won't change."

"Thank you," Harry said, turning to leave. Suddenly a thought struck him. "Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was just thinking and-" he stopped suddenly, colour flooding his cheeks. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just difficult for me to say this to you."

The Minister nodded. "I'll be as professional as I can," he promised.

"Okay, well, whenever Ginny and I have been, well, intimate," Harry paused slightly, averting his eyes from the equally uncomfortable minister. "It's been at either my place or hers, so I'm saying, for Skeeter to get pictures…" He trailed off.

"Bugs," The Minister caught on, looking worried. "I'll get Amos to organise a sweep of both your flats," he said, walking swiftly around the desk as he made his way to Amos' adjoining office. "That was well thought of Harry, I'll make sure we figure this out."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, taking his cue to leave. Upon exiting the office he was quickly accosted outside.

"Harry, I've got a message for you from Cho," Daphne called as he walked past her desk.

"What's the message?" Harry asked, stopping before her.

"She phoned to say that Warlock David Woods is waiting for you in Meeting Room 3," she said, handing over a pile of papers from her desk. "Is this about the trade bill?"

"Yes," Harry answered as he wandered away from her desk, examining the papers in his arms. "Hey Ron."

"Hey," Ron said matching his stride as they met in the hallway.

"You got any ideas yet?" Harry asked, still perusing the documents.

"Not yet," Ron admitted. "Photography isn't my strongest suit."

"Well, if you find anything, let me know," Harry said, stopping at the door to Meeting Room 3.

"Will do," Ron called back to him as he continued down the hallway. Harry took a deep breath, before opening the door.

"Warlock Woods, how are you?" Harry greeted, striding across the room to shake the older man's hand.

"I'm doing good, Harry, and please, call me David," Warlock Woods replied, gripping Harry's hand firmly with a genuine smile. "How are you today?"

"Busy," Harry answered honestly, gesturing for David to take a seat at the table across from him. "Everywhere I look I see people with nothing to do while I get drowned out by books and parchment."

David chuckled. "I know the feeling," he sympathised. "And I apologise for the inconvenience I am causing you, but I'm sure you understand my position here."

"I do, David, believe me," Harry replied. "I know this isn't what you wanted but we've got to do something, and this," he placed his hand over the documents he'd lain on the table before him, "is the best we can manage. This is what we can get through the Wizengamot."

David sighed and leaned back in his chair, clearly not thrilled to be having this conversation. "Well, it's not like I have anything to do today," he said offhandedly. Harry point blank ignored his attempt at wit. "Okay, Harry, just because we're friends, I'll hear you out."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied sincerely.

"Go on then," David said, crossing his arms. "Convince me."

* * *

"Good to see you," Neville greeted as he strode into the elaborate meeting room, three men already seated on the other side of the table. "My name is Neville Longbottom, I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff, and am I to understand that the three of you represent the editors of Witch Weekly."

"We are the editors of Witch Weekly," the man in the middle confirmed. "I'm Karl Myers, this is Daniel O'Leary and Blake Gibbons."

"Good to meet you," Neville said, reaching across to shake their hands.

"We're not a particularly big news company," Karl explained. "When we were told the Ministry wanted to speak to us we couldn't help but come ourselves."

"Well, let me be the first to properly welcome you to the Ministry," Neville said warmly, taking his seat across from them.

"Thank you," Karl replied.

"Now, before we start I've just got one question," Neville said, looking through the papers before him. "You're all male."

Daniel and Blake seemed taken aback by the comment but Karl took it in his stride with a laugh. "You mean what are three men doing editing for a magazine aimed towards the demographic of teenage girls?" Neville shrugged in response.

"We don't make up the stories, Mr Longbottom," Karl chuckled. "We just edit them. I swear I know no more about makeup tips and celebrity break-ups than you do." Daniel and Blake laughed a bit at that.

"Alright, now that we've got that cleared up," Neville spoke, bringing silence to the room. "To the matter at hand. I'm sure you're aware of why we called you here."

"The Potter-Weasley story," Karl said knowingly. "We thought as much."

"I'm asking you not to print the story," Neville continued.

"And why'd we do that," Gibbons retorted heatedly. "Just because you're in government doesn't give you the right to police what we publish. Last I checked we had freedom of speech in this country."

"Yes, you do," Neville continued. "But in this case we believe some of the evidence used to convince you of the truth of this article has been fabricated."

"Of course," Gibbons scoffed.

"Blake," Karl said warningly, quieting his colleague with a stern look. He turned back to Neville. "The pictures?"

Neville nodded. "We have reason to believe that one of the photos has been fabricated in order to build a story."

"One of the pictures?" Karl questioned. "We've got the photos here if you want to-"

"No, no," Neville cut in, holding a hand out to prevent Daniel from pulling the photos out of the folder sitting before him. "I don't need to see them. I'm assuming you've all seen the pictures yourselves." They all nodded. "I'm talking about the picture of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley under the sign for 'The Brewer'."

"If it were fake, that would call into question the truth behind the story," Karl agreed. "But it would not be enough to outright say the story is false."

"We have sworn statements from the Auror office that at the time of the alleged event both Harry and Ginny were accounted for and were not at 'The Brewer'," Neville continued. "The story is fake."

"You have evidence," Daniel O'Leary spoke up for the first time. "Can you prove the photo is fake?"

"We've had a reporter look at it and he is certain-" Neville began.

"A reporter," Gibbons cut in. "A reporter can not reliably disprove the authenticity of anything, Mr Longbottom," he said snidely.

"I'm afraid my colleague is correct," Karl said solemnly. "I cannot pull the story based on the word of one reporter."

"Karl, you understand that if you print this story you open yourself up to being sued for slander," Neville warned. "We both know this story is false and all we have to do is prove the picture is fake to completely destroy Skeeter's legitimacy."

"I just told you, Mr Longbottom," Karl said tiredly. "You haven't given me enough to pull the story. I'd love to help you out but that is the truth of the matter." He stood up with a sigh, O'Leary and Gibbons following him.

"If you do find evidence that the photo's fake, tell us," Karl said, picking up his briefcase. "We'll print a retraction and our front page of the next issue will feature a sincere apology to all those involved and a notice of the disemployment of Rita Skeeter from our magazine."

"Karl, don't do this," Neville said, standing up. "Witch Weekly has the most incredible approval ratings of any publication. You guys are good at what you do. If you print this story your reputation will be ruined when the truth comes out."

"Mr Longbottom," Karl said with a sense of finality. "We've told you what we can do and what we can't. If you find proof, then tell us. We're going back to the office to oversee the printing, which will begin as soon as we return. This article is going to print." Karl made his way to the door, holding it open for O'Leary and Gibbons to walk through first.

"You're making a big mistake," Neville warned their retreating backs. "You'll be sorry you did this come tomorrow."

Karl sighed as he turned back to face Neville, O'Leary and Gibbons already out in the corridor. "Then let me be the first to apologise."

* * *

"It's not good enough," David said vehemently, leaning over the table in the manner of one in an engrossing debate. "The import tax needs to raise by another three percentage points to even be in the range of what is necessary."

"I'm not arguing that, David, I'm not," Harry replied. "I'm just saying if we raise the import tax any higher than already specified we won't win the vote. Our Political Strategy Director has looked into this; with your support and the support of your followers we have 152 of the 299 votes."

"That's just another argument for the need to raise the income tax," David argued. "You need my support or you won't win."

"If we raise the tax we lose much more than we gain," Harry retorted. "McCain, Walker, Tennant; they've all agreed to support the bill as long as the import tax does not go up any further. We need these guys and if I was able to negotiate them up I would have done so already."

Harry took a breath. Gently sipping from the glass of water Cho had brought in for him half an hour ago he felt a slight relief as the water cooled his throat.

"This is not what we want," Harry admitted quietly, turning his gaze back to David. "We can't get what we want. We can get this."

"So it's not a question of what we should do, but of what we can do," David said, understanding Harry's position.

"I knew getting you to agree to this would be difficult," Harry said. "But we need this trade bill, and not just for higher import taxes. There is so much good to be done by this bill and for the last month we've been working around the clock to get it through. This is the only way we can do that."

"You're a smooth talker," David admitted after a moments pause, leaning back in his chair wearily as his body reminded him of his age. "You remind me of myself when I was young," he continued. "Except I was a rabble-rouser yelling at the brick wall of an administration accountable to nobody, you are able to make a difference."

David smiled as he took in Harry's earnest expression. "Okay, I'll support this bill," he said.

"You will?" Harry asked eagerly.

David chuckled. "You've convinced me," he joked. "I want higher import taxes, don't forget that," he said, becoming serious again. "But you are right, there is a lot of good that can be done by this bill, and I want to see to it that it passes."

"Thank you, David," Harry said gratefully, standing up and shaking his hand.

"Thank you," David replied, pulling himself stiffly back to his feet. "This has been a most entertaining discussion," he continued, limping slightly as he started walking. "I'll let myself out, I imagine you still have a lot of work to do."

"That I do," Harry smiled. "Thank you, sir."

David smiled as he reached the doorway and a second later he was gone.

Harry sighed as he slumped back into his chair. He took another sip of water before dipping his fingers in, wiping at his tired eyes in a vain effort to wake himself up.

"Harry?" Cho asked from the doorway as she waited for him expectantly.

"Yes, Cho," Harry said as he strode over to her, handing over the files he'd been carrying around. "File those away again and I'll talk to you when I get back to the office. I'm just going to tell Amos it's done."

Cho nodded before walking briskly away, leaving Harry alone in the entrance of the meeting room. He started walking in the opposite direction, back in the direction of the Minister's office. He pulled up short, however, instead turning towards the office of the Chief of Staff, passing his assistant Luna Lovegood with a brief wave.

"Hey, Amos, I just wanted to tell you I've got Woods on board," Harry said, noticing that Amos was not alone. Standing across the desk from him was Neville. "Is there something I should know about?"

"Why don't you close the door," Amos encouraged, gesturing for him to join them. "Neville has just got back from meeting with the Witch Weekly editors."

"How did it go?" Harry asked, walking closer to the desk after assuring their privacy.

"Not good," Neville admitted. "Michael was right, they wanted proof the photo was a fake."

"Right," Harry said, taking in the news. "So what now?"

"Printing is going to begin once the editors return to their office," Neville said. "This is going to be reported whether we like it or not."

"Has Ron had any luck with finding a proof?" Amos asked.

Neville shook his head. "It's a well guarded secret among photographers, and we don't know any we can trust."

"We'll keep looking," Amos comforted them. "Luna!"

A second later the office door opened again and Luna Lovegood stuck her head in. "Yes Mr Diggory?"

"Get Ron and Hermione and get them to come to the Minister's office," Amos commanded.

"Of course, Mr Diggory," Luna accepted, leaving immediately to do her job.

"We've got time to sort this out," Amos said calmly to Harry and Neville. "We know it's going to print so there is no need to run around like headless chickens. We'll just need to prepare for this when it breaks tomorrow morning."

Amos pushed himself up from his desk and made his way to the door linking his office to the Minister's. "Come with me."

Minister Weasley was already up and pacing as they entered the room, reading over some parchment with his glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"I've been informed you guys are meeting with me," he said as he turned to face them. "I think I can hazard a guess as to what happened."

"They want proof," Amos said. "And we don't have it."

"I would've thought that even the notion they might be open to a law suit would have shut these guys down," the Minister continued. "Neville, did you tell them we could sue?"

"Yes, sir," Neville replied.

"Vociferously."

"Yes, sir."

"And they're printing the story anyway," the Minister complained. "Can we just sue them now? Do we have to wait until they've actually published the article?"

"What's happened?" Ron asked as he strode into the room, Hermione hot on his heels.

"The Minister for Magic is suing Witch Weekly," Amos said sardonically.

"I don't believe it," Ron complained. "They're printing it?"

"They wanted proof," Amos repeated.

"So Michael was right," Hermione sighed.

"Yes, yes," the Minster spoke over them. "Well, let's stop worrying about the article and start talking about how to prove the picture isn't real. Ron?"

"Ways of exposing counterfeit photographs are a well kept secret in the photography community," Ron said with a grimace. "Everyone I've talked to won't tell me anything."

"We've got people taking pictures around here all the time, can we not just ask them?" The Minister asked.

"I've tried," Ron sighed. "These people aren't Ministry employees though so they do not feel comfortable divulging that piece of information."

The Minister sighed. "Well, keep looking Ron, maybe we'll get lucky. Neville, you help him," the Minister ordered. "Hermione, talk to Michael again, see if he can help."

Everyone agreed to their jobs and left through the main door. "Harry, come with me," Amos said, instead leading Harry back into his office and closing the door behind them. "I just want to let you know how the security investigation is going."

"Have they found anything?" Harry asked.

"No electronic bugs," Amos said, shaking his head. "They've searched through both yours and Ginny's places and found nothing of a magical nature either. The thought is that she may have intruded in person."

"You mean she was there, in our homes?" Harry gasped, a horrified expression crossing his face.

"They're looking at a few possibilities," Amos continued. "Polyjuice is out but we believe she may have had the use of an invisibility cloak."

"And if she doesn't?" Harry asked.

"Disillusionment Charms, powerful Notice-Me-Not wards," Amos listed. "The truth is that our options become a lot less likely very quickly."

"Right," Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"When was the last time you got any sleep?" Amos asked, taking in his exhausted appearance.

"I don't know," Harry mumbled. "Just before the New York thing."

"Yesterday morning?!"

"That was yesterday?" Harry groaned. "It's all just seemed to merge into one endless excruciating torture."

"Harry, don't do this to yourself," Amos said.

"What, I'm fine," Harry argued unconvincingly.

"You're not fine," Amos argued back. "Look, take this as a direct order from this office. Go back to your desk, lock your door and get some sleep."

"But I've got so much-" Harry started.

"Sleep!" Amos shouted. "That's an order."

Harry stood still for a moment, tired brain still trying to follow what just happened. "Yes sir," he said finally, walking to the door. "Thank you, sir."

Harry stopped outside the office door, taking a moment to breath in a deep breath as he leaned against the door and rested his eyes.

"You feeling okay?"

Harry looked over to where the question came from to see Luna staring up at him, her comically large glasses magnifying her crystal blue eyes.

"I know Mr Diggory can be difficult," she offered in consolation, clearly misreading the situation.

"Thanks for the support, Luna," Harry thanked her with a tired smile. "Amos hasn't been a problem. It's just… I've had a very bad day."

Luna smiled sympathetically at him. "Well cheer up," she chirped happily. "I'm sure things will get better soon."

Harry frowned, finding a quality to her words that suggested a hidden meaning, one he was not yet partial to. Glancing at Luna, who had returned to her work, one last time, Harry made his way down the hallway and back towards his office, not paying much attention to what was going on around him.

As he got within ten meters of his office door his vision was suddenly obscured by a curtain of red as he felt someone rush into him. Harry caught his mystery assailant on instinct, wrapping his arms around them to cushion the blow. Slowly, he was able to bring himself back to the present.

"Ginny?" Ginny pulled back slightly to see his face, wiping at her eyes as she did so, revealing them to be suspiciously wet. Knowing better than to comment on her tears Harry instead kissed her on the forehead and held her close. "Ginny, are you okay?"

Ginny nodded, seeming to be pulling herself together after her surprise moment of weakness. "Yeah," she sniffed slightly. "Sorry, I've just been so worried all day since you called, I'm just glad to see you."

Harry nodded. "I understand, I feel the same," Harry said. "It's been a pretty awful day for me here, I'm just glad to be able to talk to you." Harry glanced around, realising they were still in the middle of the corridor. "Why don't we go into my office?"

Ginny nodded in agreement, slipping round to his side so she could keep an arm around him as they walked. "Cho, can you hold my calls for me, please?"

"Of course," Cho responded as Harry entered his office and shut the door behind them.

"I like your office," Ginny commented as she wandered inside, looking out of his enchanted window. "It looks nice out of your window, Ron's office had thunder and lightning."

"Well that's because Ron's pissed off the Department for Magical Maintenance," Harry responded, closing the blinds along the glass wall of his office. "He's been having thunder storms continuously for nearly a month now."

"Sounds like Ron," Ginny said lightly, settling down on the sofa in the office.

Harry moved over to sit next to her, taking her hands in his as he spoke. "How are you doing with this?"

Ginny looked from their clasped hands to Harry's face. "I'm doing okay," she said softly. "When you told me what had happened I was ready to burn the place down, I had to take my lunch break just to be able to steady my hands enough to make potions. I'm sure my colleagues are all aware that something is going on." She rubbed her fingers absentmindedly across Harry's hands as she spoke.

"But I'm better now," she continued, her voice firmer and more confident. "I know that the smartest people in this country are working to fix this out."

"You know we failed," Harry replied glumly, dipping his head in shame.

"I know that the article is still going to be printed," Ginny corrected him. "And I know that when it gets released the lot of you will be there to shoot them down faster than a Nimbus 2000."

"You have a lot of faith in us," Harry said, his tone a clear indication of what he thought of that.

"Yes, I do," Ginny said firmly, head held high. "And you should too. I don't know much about Skeeter, but I do know she has just made the biggest mistake of her life."

Harry looked at his fiery girlfriend with a strange sense of pride. It still amazed him, even after almost two years together, the strength of character his girlfriend held, and it was times like these that he truly appreciated the fire that drove her.

"Nimbus 2000?" Harry raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "You couldn't have picked a broom from this century."

Ginny huffed slightly, although her act was ruined by the smile spreading across her face. "It was something I read in a magazine when I was like five," she defended.

"The Nimbus 2000 racing broom was released when you were nine," Harry pointed out.

"You know, you're really lucky you have this job," Ginny commented. "Because I'm pretty sure there is no other job in the world where that piece of trivia would be at all useful."

Harry chuckled, cupping her head in his hand and kissing her. He felt her sink in to the kiss as he did, encouraging him to deepen it further, wrapping his free arm around her to pull her closer.

"Oh, god, I did not want to see that."

Harry pulled away from Ginny in annoyance as he found Ron standing in his office doorway, curious staff members peering in behind him as he covered his eyes.

"Hey Ron, heard of knocking?" Harry asked, somewhat amused by Ron's reaction despite himself.

"Since when did we ever knock around here?" Ron responded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Since I spent time in here with my girlfriend with the door closed and the blinds shut," Harry retorted, moving around behind his desk as they settled back into work mode.

"You've got the Luton speech ready for me?" Ron asked, standing at the desk while Harry sifted through his papers.

"Yeah, it's just underneath all this stuff from today," Harry mumbled as he continued to root around his desk. "I'll take you through the bullet points."

"That can wait till morning," Ron dismissed.

"I doubt it," Harry replied, finally finding his speech. "The Minister's speaking at two, and I've got a feeling tomorrow morning is going to be busy enough as it is."

Before Ron had a chance to answer there was a knock on the door.

"Yeah," Harry called, signalling for the person to enter. Colin Creevey stepped through the door, immediately turning to Ron.

"Here's the HR paper you need to sign," he said, handing Ron a clipboard with a document attached. Ron pulled a quill out of his pocket and with practiced ease scrawled his name along the dotted line.

"There's something bothering me," Ron muttered to himself, ignoring Colin's gestures to hand the forms back. "Something that I should really be seeing."

"Ron," Colin spoke up, slightly inpatient.

Ron turned to him, eyes seeming to look right past him for a moment. "Of course," Ron mumbled absently, handing back the forms and slipping his quill into his pocket. "Thank you, Colin."

Colin nodded before turning away, opening the door to leave.

"Colin, wait," Ron said suddenly, a thought seemingly on the very tip of his tongue as he gestured for Colin to come back in. "When you were younger, did you… do photography?"

The question caught Harry's attention immediately while Ginny seemed simply confused by her brother's train of thought.

"Umm, yeah, when I was younger," Colin replied, slightly thrown by the question. "I haven't picked up a camera for ten, fifteen years."

"Do you know a test for proving the authenticity of a photograph?" Harry asked earnestly, leaning forward in his seat.

"I know the old way," Colin said. "But photography has come such a long way, my tests won't work anymore."

"Do you know how we might get in touch with a photographer who might know?" Ron asked. "I've been calling all the photography firms established in the UK and they won't say anything."

"Photographers are really weird about their secrets," Colin admitted. "When I was younger even I was like that. What you really need is more of a part-time photographer, someone who isn't as indoctrinated as the others."

"And you know where to find them?" Harry asked.

"Art studios," Colin answered. "In a lot of art studios they employ people who focus on multiple forms of art, including photography."

"Thanks Colin, that will be all," Ron said, noticing the excitement in Harry's eyes. The door had barely shut behind Colin before Harry burst.

"This is perfect," he said, absolutely ecstatic. "I've got a friend who does sketches and drawings and stuff; he works at an art studio in Diagon Alley." Harry jumped up from his seat and yanked on his outdoor robe. "I'll go see him straight away."

"Harry, stop," Ron said, surprising Harry by standing between him and the door. "Hold up."

"Ron, what are you doing?" Harry frowned, still halfway through putting his robe on.

"Harry, it's nearly eight," Ron said, pointing Harry's attention to the clock on the wall. "This guy won't still be working right now. Call him, and arrange a meeting tomorrow morning, before the press conference."

"That'll be really early," Harry warned.

"Tell him it's important," Ron replied. "In the meantime, you take Ginny and go get something to eat. Go back to your place, watch a movie, do whatever it is you do together and… relax."

"But what about the Luton speech?" Harry asked, picking the speech up off his desk.

"I'll take it from here," Ron said confidently, holding his hand out for the speech. Harry hesitated for a second before handing it over.

"Thanks Ron," he said gratefully. "I really appreciate this."

"Don't mention it," Ron replied, slipping the speech under his arm. "Now, call your guy and leave. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

The Minister removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes tiredly, feeling the stress of the hectic day and dreading the eventual conversation he was going to have to have with his wife when he finally got home.

"Do the aurors think there is ample reason to conduct a search?" he asked tiredly.

Amos nodded. "This is about the security of the Minister's family, they hardly need any evidence at all," he said calmly.

The Minister sighed, the burden of running the country seeming to settle on his shoulders even more than usual. He'd always assumed he wasn't cut out for this sort of political life, much preferring his old job as Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office, and he wouldn't have even thought of holding the position of Minister had Amos not convinced him to run.

"Do the aurors think they'll find anything?" The Minister asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," Amos replied. "Even if they find an invisibility cloak it won't necessarily prove her guilt."

"But it will be enough to warrant interrogation under veritaserum," the Minister caught on. "Either way, the trouble is if she is using some other form of eavesdropping that we haven't checked for."

"A raid will be looking for more than just invisibility cloaks," Amos commented. "If she is using any artefact to spy on people we'll find it." He started to make his way towards the door. "Besides, I'm sure there is plenty Skeeter has been hiding to begin with."

The Minister nodded in agreement, noticing Blaise open the door for Ron to walk through. "Keep the raid until the morning press conference," the Minister said. "I don't want Skeeter to get any whiff of this before it all comes crashing down around her."

"Yes, Minister," Amos said, walking to his office and closing the door behind him.

"Hey Ron, what have you got for me?" The Minister asked, slipping his glasses back on and peering up at his Political Strategy Director.

"I've got the Luton speech from Harry's desk," he replied, placing the parchment down on the Minister's desk. "I've highlighted the things I think people are most likely to ask but it would be a good idea to at least skim over the other sections as well."

"I'll look over it," the Minister promised. "Is Harry still here?"

"No sir," Ron replied. "I sent him home."

"You sent him home," the Minister repeated, looking up at him again. "You realise you don't have the authority to do that?"

"Yes," Ron replied, a slightly belligerent edge to his voice.

The Minister watched him for a second. "Good job," he said, bringing a slight sigh of relief from Ron. "Amos said Harry's been working himself into the ground lately, he could use a night off."

"Ginny's with him," Ron commented.

The Minister paused for a second, looking back up at Ron. "She is?"

"She came round right after work," Ron informed him. "She waited in my office while Harry was meeting with Warlock Woods."

"Right," the Minister mumbled to himself, his gaze now seeming to go past Ron and into the air behind him. "Right."

"Sir," Ron said, a slightly strained look coming over his features. "What I'm about to say is quite frank," he continued. "And I'm saying this not as your employee, but as your son." Arthur nodded, slightly concerned as to where this was going. "Do you have a problem with Harry?"

Arthur stared at him, stunned. "What?" he spluttered. "I have been continuously supportive of Harry in everything he's done. What could possibly have made you think that I've got a problem with him?"

Ron seemed to hesitate, as though not sure how to express what he was thinking. Eventually he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope.

"I took these from Hermione's office," Ron admitted, stepping forward and placing the envelope on Arthur's desk. From where Arthur was sitting he could spot the edges of a couple of the photographs inside.

"Why have you got them?" Arthur said, throat drying up, eyes fixed on the envelope.

"Harry's my best friend," Ron said sincerely. "And I like that he's going out with Ginny. I think he's good for her, and she's good for him." He paused, looking down at the floor to find the courage for what he was going to say next.

"I'm okay with them," he continued. "I'm okay enough to stand beside them even when I carry pictures of them that I've never wanted to see in my pocket. What I'm asking is, can you?"

"Ron," Arthur said softly.

"Can you support Harry with the evidence of what he does with your daughter in the palm of your hand?" Ron spoke again, his voice louder than before. "Can you still show him the respect he deserves when you know his most private moments are a mere glance away?"

"Ron," Arthur said again, loud enough to halt his sons' rant. The two of them stood there for a minute, the desk sitting between them with the white envelope lying innocently upon it.

Arthur sighed. He walked around his desk and placed a hand upon his sons' shoulder, suddenly reminded of just how tall his son had grown.

"Did you know that I knew Harry's father?" Arthur said, surprising Ron. "I did, years ago, before he died." Arthur took a breath before beginning his story.

"I worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, a department that was never held in high esteem by the Ministry at the time. We had a single office for two people, me and a guy named Perkins, who made up the rest of the department. As you can remember from your childhood we were often completely overrun."

"The department itself was located on level 2 of the Ministry building and to access the area one had to pass the Auror Office, the department for which Harry's dad, James Potter, worked."

"James Potter was one of the kindest, most compassionate men I had ever met," Arthur reminisced, his eyes misty. "Harry looks just like him; except for his eyes, he has his mothers eyes."

Arthur's own eyes cleared as he fixed them firmly on his son. "I got to know James well in the months before he died and in the last couple of years I've got to know Harry too. I can safely say that I trust him with my life. And more importantly, I can trust him with my daughter's life."

"Careful dad," Ron said, smiling slightly. "It sounds as though you're planning on marrying her off to him."

"I wouldn't oppose them if they did get married," Arthur announced honestly. "Your mother on the other hand would have a fit."

Ron laughed. "Yeah, and then she'd go crazy with wedding preparations and asking for grandkids." Arthur chuckled along with him. "You going home tonight or are you staying in the office?"

"I think I'll read over the Luton speech and then head home," Arthur said. "I've still got to talk about all this with your mother, and I'd rather not have to wake her up to tell her."

"Does mum know about Harry and Ginny?" Ron asked.

"She's known for almost as long as I've known," Arthur snorted. "I can never keep anything from that woman. The concern I have is that she hasn't actually met Harry yet, I fear she may get the wrong idea about him."

There was a comfortable silence between them as they came to peace with the situation, the discussion having quelled the fears of both men.

"But for now we still have work," the Minister said, business like again. "Take these photos," he handed Ron the envelope he'd picked up from his desk, "and get them safely back to Hermione's office."

"Yes sir," Ron nodded, taking the envelope and making his way towards the door. "Thank you, dad," he said, having paused on his way out.

"Thank you, Ron," the Minister replied. "I'll see you tomorrow, son."

Ron smiled back at him and made the rest of the journey to the door, leaving the Minister alone in his office. The Minister sighed slightly at the peace he was finally able to achieve, having had people coming and going from his office all day long. He slowly wandered around his desk and settled himself back down in his chair, pulling the parchments Ron had left towards him. Relighting one of the candles by his desk he began to read.

* * *

"You won't believe the strings I'm pulling to get you in this early," Dean Thomas said, passing his wand over the door to his art studio. Behind them stood a grumpy man with sandy hair called Seamus Finnegan, who apparently needed to be there as it was company policy to have at least two members of staff present at all times.

"I know Dean, and I'm grateful," Harry replied, following Dean inside the studio, the lights flickering on as they entered. "And if it was possible to see you during normal business hours I would."

"It worries me that you even have to see me during business hours," Dean replied, looking at Harry worriedly. "Something big's happening, isn't it?"

"Only if you can't help me," Harry replied, hand reaching into his pocket. "I've got a picture that we believe to be fake, one that is the basis of an article set to be published this morning which will cause a lot of people a lot of trouble."

"Can I see it?" Dean asked, eyes glancing to the hand in Harry's pocket.

Harry nodded, pulling the photo out and handing it to Dean.

"Whoa, Harry," Dean said, somewhere between shocked and impressed. "That is one hot bird you've got there, how'd you manage to trick her into dating you?"

Harry shrugged, though a grin was tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I reckon it was just my natural charm," he joked, causing Dean to snort. Behind him Harry noticed Seamus seemed to have become much more interested in their conversation.

"You need to prove this is fake," Dean repeated, waving the picture in the air. "Seamus is your guy, he does a bit of photography for us here."

Seamus walked over immediately, picking the photo out of Dean's hand neatly, all trace of his earlier grumpiness present. "She's good," he whistled appreciatively. "I think I recognise her from somewhere."

"She's the Minister's daughter," Harry admitted.

As one Dean and Seamus turned to stare at him, each looking absolutely gobsmacked. "You need us to prove that you aren't snogging the Minister's daughter behind his back?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Actually I need you to prove that the picture wasn't taken at 'The Brewer', as the sign says," Harry corrected. "I am actually snogging the Minister's daughter behind his back."

The silence in the room was broken by Seamus's hearty laughter, echoing around the spacious room. "Unbelievable, Dean, why haven't I met this guy sooner," Seamus chortled, clapping him on the back.

"You're dating the Minister's daughter?" Dean asked, shellshocked.

"Yes, look," Harry said nervously, glancing at his watch. "I don't really have a lot of time."

"No problem," Seamus said happily, walking over to a weird looking device on one of the desks, placing the photo on top of it. "This should only take a moment."

Harry and Dean wandered closer as Seamus continued his work. Seconds later the machine started to glow and emit a low humming noise as it worked. The light didn't pierce the photograph. Instead a thin silvery mist rose around the top left of the picture.

"You were right, the photo's fake," Seamus said, moving his wand around to point at the picture. "This silver mist shows that the parchment quality changes between these areas, essentially showing where the merge has occurred. This main bit is a picture of you and your girlfriend, but this bit in the top left is another picture entirely, woven into the original." Seamus paused his examination. "It's a bit sloppily done to be honest, whoever did this was either rushed or incompetent. Either way, I think you've got what you're looking for."

"Not quite," Harry said, placing a hand back into his pocket. "I need you to sign this memo confirming that this photo is false."

Seamus looked at him with a slightly amused expression. "You owe me one," he said, signing his name at the bottom of the memo.

"I know," Harry said, slipping both the memo and the photo back into his pocket. "How about I buy you a drink sometime."

Seamus barked out a laugh. "Now your talking," he said, grinning like a loon as he watched Harry rush away. "What a lad."

* * *

The press room was starting to fill up as 9 o'clock drew near, reporters from various newspapers and magazines finding the seats they'd sat in many times before for conferences just like this.

One witch, standing tall in ridiculously high heels waving an emerald quill high in the air, had been in the business for longer than most. Rita Skeeter had a reputation for exposing politician's and celebrity's deepest and darkest secrets and she arrived in the wake of yet another success.

Demelza Robins approached her quickly as she made her way to the press room, cutting her off smartly. "Miss Skeeter, if you could just follow me," she announced, walking off without even checking to see if she was being followed.

Skeeter followed her lead, smiling smugly as she anticipated the meeting she was about to have. Reaching the end of her journey she was unsurprised to find herself in the office of Harry Potter.

"Miss Skeeter to see you," Demelza announced as Harry met her at the door, nodding to her and relieving her of her duty before turning to the veteran reporter.

"Miss Skeeter, please come in," he said, holding the door open for her. She gave him an acidic smile as she waltzed past him, taking a seat without invitation. Harry closed the door behind her, giving Skeeter a resentful look behind her back before walking around and taking the seat behind his desk.

"I believe we've got a problem, Miss Skeeter," Harry said formally, addressing the reporter with a serious expression.

"No no, Harry," Skeeter crooned, reclining luxuriously in her seat. "You have the problem, not I." She studied him with an amused glimmer in her eyes. "What is it you wish to achieve with this meeting, hmm? Are you bribing me, threatening me, pleading with me?" Skeeter chuckled. "Either way, it's too late. This morning thousands of readers will open up their copies of Witch Weekly and find out a scandalous affair taking place within their own Ministry. I can't imagine you'll be in this office much longer, hmm Harry."

Harry stared at her, anger and hate boiling beneath the surface as he listened to his tormenter, a woman with no cause but to ruin his career. "Let's watch Hermione speak," he said suddenly, turning away from Skeeter and turning on his TV, perched upon a shelf behind his desk. Skeeter seemed somewhat thrown by this but, as Hermione walked on screen, she turned her attention to the press conference.

"Good morning, I'm Hermione Granger and this is the regular morning press conference," Hermione started off, easily flowing through the introduction she used every morning. "I've just got the one major news item this morning so I'll start with that then we'll move onto questions." She adjusted her glasses and began to read from a sheet before her.

"It has been reported in this week's edition of Witch Weekly that Communications Director Harry Potter and the Minister's daughter Ginny Weasley were seen spending a weekend nearly a month ago at 'The Brewer', a hotel with a reputation for reports of drug use, illegal gambling and prostitution." There was a murmur of voices from the journalists in the crowd but Hermione pressed on.

"The Auror office has been able to account for both of the people in question and have assured us that neither of them were at this hotel at the time specified," Hermione continued. "Photos presented as evidence for the story have been investigated and one of them, which stood as the only evidence that the couple were ever at the hotel, has been found to be fake, as vouched for by experienced photographer Seamus Finnegan."

As she finished the line there was clamouring from the audience, each wanting their question answered first. "Dennis," Hermione called, pointing to someone in the crowd.

"Considering the accusations made against people close to the Minister, is Rita Skeeter, that is, the author of the article, going to be having action taken against her by the Ministry," a voice from off camera spoke as the remaining reporters went quiet, waiting for an answer.

"Naturally for falsifying evidence and the incendiary nature of her article, Miss Skeeter has opened herself up to a law suit from either Harry or Ginny if they so wished to take this to court," Hermione stated, well prepared for the question. "Due to the photos in question there has been reason to believe Miss Skeeter has intruded on private property, either personally or through magical and muggle surveillance techniques, and as such the auror department are at this very moment conducting a raid on her home and workplace. Needless to say should evidence of that sort be found Miss Skeeter could find herself set for jail time."

"I think we've heard enough, eh Rita," Harry said smugly as he switched the TV off, turning to face a now very pale faced Rita Skeeter. "Let's hope you don't have anything hidden away that might implicate you."

"No," Skeeter breathed desperately, eyes wide. "This can't be happening."

"Believe it, it's happening," Harry grinned back, taking entirely too much pleasure in mocking her.

"I can't believe you," Skeeter gasped. "How could you do this? This'll ruin me, my life's work down the drain. How could you be such a cold hearted monster?"

Harry's smile dropped off his face as he listened to what she was saying. "Me, a monster," he laughed, although there was no humour in his stone cold voice. "Try looking in a mirror. Me, I'm a politician, and you don't get to where I am without crushing a few people along the way."

Skeeter gulped, a hand halfway up to her mouth in shock. Harry calmed slightly at her reaction, remembering he still had to be professional.

"There are guards outside this office waiting for us to finish this meeting," Harry said calmly, watching Skeeter with no sympathy. "There's two ways this can go. Either you walk out this room and go with them quietly as they take you to a holding cell to await your fate, or you can try to run and have attempting to resist arrest added to your list of charges."

Harry stopped and simply stared at Skeeter, not once flinching as he saw the previously confident woman fall apart before his eyes. They sat there for several minutes before Harry realised Skeeter wasn't going to be moving. He picked up the phone, Skeeter's dead eyes not even acknowledging the motion. "Send them in."

A second later two strong looking men strode through the door, each bearing the crest of the Auror Corps on their chests. They strode in business like, restraining Skeeter with magical binding handcuffs before dragging her from the room, Skeeter not even trying to fight against them.

Through all this Harry kept his cold stare, a look that, one auror would later tell his wife, for the first time made him fear a politician.

* * *

"Annabelle," Hermione called, taking another question in her stride.

"Hermione, how is the Minister taking the news his daughter is engaging in adult activities with a member of his own staff?" the dark haired reporter asked, notebook at the ready to note down her answer.

"The Minister is well aware that Harry and Ginny are in a relationship and has been for some time now," Hermione informed the room. "As this pertains to the private life of the Minister's family I'm not at liberty to go any further."

"Is this going to affect the Minister's professional relationship with Harry Potter?" Annabelle questioned again before anyone else could cut in.

"The Minister respects Harry Potter both for his abilities and personality," Hermione replied. "This was true before he knew about the relationship and it was true after as well."

"But surely the reported pictures will change that?" Annabelle said again, much to the displeasure of her colleagues.

"Annabelle, that is your third consecutive question," Hermione said sternly. "If you would please remain quiet and allow your colleagues to speak we could move things forward."

"Hermione," the crowd clamoured as Annabelle sat back down.

"Clint," Hermione gestured to the front row.

"Hermione, could you perhaps answer that last question?" Clint said calmly, gesturing vaguely behind him to where Annabelle was seated.

"The Minister makes it a duty to remain out of his children's private lives," Hermione answered. "If the Minister got involved in everything his children did he wouldn't have time to run the country; after all, he's got seven of them." There was a ripple of laughter throughout the crowd at that as Hermione took a glance at her notes.

"One last thing before we finish here," Hermione said, reading her notes. "The Minister has decided to take this opportunity to remind the press that the private lives of his children are off limits. Any reporter overstepping their duty will find themselves at the mercy of security and if the situation calls for it, restraining orders. Thank you, that will be all."

Hermione picked up her notes and strode briskly out the press room, avoiding the various reporters trying to talk to her as she reached the exit to the press room.

"That was well done," Ron spoke as he fell into step beside her, having been watching the press conference from just outside the door. "You didn't hold any punches against Skeeter."

"I feel like no one in this building is particularly sad about that," Hermione replied as she wordlessly handed her notes off to Demelza. "How are things going with the raid?"

"They've finished," Ron replied. "That is the extent of my knowledge."

"Then why are you talking to me?" Hermione asked, coming to a stop outside her office.

"You did well," Ron replied with a shrug.

"Ron," Hermione said sharply, a hand waiting on her office door as she looked at him expectantly.

Ron hesitated slightly. "I wanted to thank you," he said.

"For the press conference?"

"For the last line," Ron replied, catching Hermione by surprise. "I know the Minister. I know him as a man and I know him as a politician, and I know he'd never tell you to say that." Ron paused slightly, looking along the corridor as though afraid he'd be overheard. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Hermione said softly, recognising the sincerity in Ron's voice that he rarely showed to anyone. "I've got work to do."

"Me too," Ron nodded, starting to back away. "I'll tell you when I start finding out stuff." He walked off as Hermione entered her office. Striding purposefully he started to make his way back towards his office before he spotted something that made him turn.

"Harry," he called over the various workstations between them, catching Harry's attention as he strode in the opposite direction. "Have they got her?"

"Yeah," Harry called back. "She's with the aurors now."

"Did she say anything?" Ron asked as Harry started to move out of sight.

"Nope, but I'm going to see Amos, speak to you later," Harry called as he walked out of sight, dodging a couple of secretaries as he rounded the corner and approached the office of the Chief of Staff.

When he arrived he found Amos on the phone, listening intently. Keeping quiet, Harry took a seat at the desk as he waited for Amos to finish his call.

"Alright, thanks, keep me up to date on what's happening," Amos said finally, putting the phone down as he turned his attention to Harry. "That was Kingsley Shacklebolt on the phone."

"What have they got?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

"On the raid of Skeeter's home they found pictures leading them to believe you aren't the first victim," Amos said seriously. "Even if that's not the case it was enough to allow us to question her under veritaserum. Apparently she's been talking for the last half hour, she could end up with a lengthy prison spell after this."

"Good," Harry said tiredly, slumping in his seat slightly.

"You still look like hell, Harry," Amos told him, looking at him with worried eyes. "Did you get much sleep last night?"

Harry nodded. "I slept well, actually," he replied. "It's just been so emotionally draining this last 24 hours, I feel like I could sleep for days."

"Well you should congratulate yourself, you did good today," Amos told him encouragingly. "Tell you what, send Cho on the Luton trip this afternoon and take the opportunity to rest."

"I can't do that," Harry argued back. "Cho's got just as much work as I do at the moment, I can't ask that from her."

"Then I will," Amos responded. "You've been through a lot Harry, and you need to rest, otherwise you'll just burn out and be of no use to anyone, okay."

Harry sighed and nodded, blinking blearily at the floor in tiredness.

"Now in the meantime I want some drafts for opposition questions over the trade bill," Amos said, snapping Harry back to attention. "It's coming up soon and we just need to make that final push to get it finalised. Go."

Harry left immediately, suddenly filled with new energy he was surprised he could even muster up after the last day.

"Hey Cho, Amos had an idea and-" Harry started as he approached his office.

"The Luton trip," Cho cut across knowingly. "Don't worry Harry, I'm on it. Amos told me I was going when I got in this morning."

"Of course he did," Harry muttered to himself as he reentered his office, pausing at the door when he realised he was not alone. "Ginny, what are you doing here?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"Thought I'd pop by and see how my boyfriend was doing," Ginny replied, accepting his greeting kiss. "I didn't think that was a crime these days."

"It's not," Harry replied, taking her in his arms. "I'll always love to return to my office to find you here." He kissed her deeply, keeping her wrapped up in his arms as they stood in his office. "You're going to see your dad?"

"We're having lunch," Ginny answered. "I wanted to see if you would join us."

"I wish I could, but I'm seriously behind on work," Harry said, eyes roving to his desk and the stacks of paperwork on it. He frowned as he spotted a white envelope sitting among his half completed speeches, knowing it had not been there when he had left his office. Letting go of Ginny he picked the envelope up, reading the writing scrolled across the front in Hermione's distinct penmanship.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, looking at the envelope curiously.

"The photos of us," Harry answered, opening the envelope slightly to check the contents. "The only copies, except for the ones in the auror evidence closet, to do to as I wish." Harry summoned a bowl out of a seemingly innocuous cupboard although the bowl seemed anything but, holding a fire that danced before them.

"Can I see them?" Ginny asked as Harry started to lower the envelope towards the flames. Harry was surprised but handed the envelope over anyway, watching as Ginny took the photos and looked over them.

"We look good," Ginny said, sounding rather impressed. "You can't really see my tan but you're certainly looking in good shape Harry."

Harry chuckled at Ginny's assessment, again wondering how Ginny could look past the whole ordeal and simply see the pictures as they were. "Perhaps I should be going to the gym more often, if my muscles impress you so much."

Ginny gave him a sly grin in response, before starting to place the photos back into the envelope. Getting to the last one, she stopped short. "I think I'll keep this one," she said, slipping it neatly into her pocket with a wink. "For all those nights when you're stuck at work and I'm all alone."

Harry smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "You're going to lunch with your father with a photo of us having sex in your pocket?" he asked incredulously.

"Ron's coming too," Ginny replied. "It's a pity you can't join us."

"I can imagine you would have enjoyed that," Harry laughed.

Ginny winked and blew him a kiss. "I've got to go. See you later, love you," she said as she started to practically skip out of his office.

"Love you too, Ginny," Harry replied, watching her as she cut a path through ministry employees. With another amused shake of the head he looked down at the envelope in his hand, staring at it thoughtfully for a moment. He quickly pulled out a picture and slipped it into his pocket, dropping the envelope into the flames as he did so.

* * *

Harry scribbled away on the parchment, his writing becoming ridiculously small as he tried to squeeze it between the lines. Scratching his chin, he scored through a word on the line above and replaced it with another, before scoring through that too and choosing a third.

"Working hard, I see," the Minister spoke from the doorway, surprising Harry as he immediately moved to stand up. Behind the Minister was Ginny, grinning at his surprise, and Blaise, standing ready to serve the Minister. "You sure you don't want to join us?"

"I wish I could sir, but I've got a lot of work to get through," Harry answered respectfully.

"Too bad," the Minister sighed. "Well, maybe you'll be able to tell us where Ron is, he's not in his office."

"He hasn't got a meeting scheduled so I imagine he'll be with one of the other Senior Staff," Harry replied.

"I'll go find him," Ginny said, sighing exasperatedly at her brother's absence.

"Good idea," the Minister agreed. "Blaise, could you perhaps go fetch my cloak for me, I seem to have forgotten it back in my office?"

"Of course, sir," Blaise replied, leaving Harry and the Minister on their own.

"You sure you don't want to come?" the Minister asked after a moments silence. "Ginny's taking us all to Gina's, should be good."

"Thank you sir, but I really need to work," Harry replied, glancing at the pile of papers still on his desk. The Minister nodded his acceptance as they fell into silence again, each waiting for the others to return.

"Sir, can I ask you something?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"Well, you just did but I think I can allow one more question," the Minister replied cheekily, grinning slightly at his joke.

"When did you find out I was dating Ginny?"

The Minister shifted slightly on his feet, glancing around vaguely into space. "Well, from the start to be honest with you," he said eventually. "It was back in Manchester, wasn't it, on the election trail." Harry nodded.

"It wasn't particularly difficult to figure out," the Minister said, reminiscing. "You asked for the evening off for personal reasons, and at the same time my daughter, who had only come to Manchester to see me, told me she had a date. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together."

Harry blushed slightly. "I didn't actually realise who she was at first," he admitted. "She came to me during your speech and complemented me for it, I never even considered how she knew I'd wrote it. I didn't suspect anything until she mentioned how weird it was to be going on a date with the man trying to get her father elected."

The Minister chuckled. "Fate has a funny habit of yanking us around," he admitted, thanking Blaise as he helped him into his robes. "But as long as the end is good I'm happy to be taken along for the ride."

"Are we ready to go, sir?" Blaise asked.

"Now we are," the Minister said as Ginny returned with Ron in toe.

"Man, I'm starving," Ron said loudly, rubbing his stomach. "Harry, you joining us?"

"Can't," Harry replied. "I'm still working on the Luton closing address."

"Well, not to put any pressure on you or anything, but Hermione's going nuts about it," Ron informed him with a grin.

"I know," Harry said grimly. "See you after lunch."

They each said their goodbyes as they headed off, leaving Harry to work on his speech as the magical window spilled artificial light into the room. Finishing his work with a sharp jab of his quill, Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed. Dropping a hand into his pocket Harry pulled out the picture he'd saved from earlier and watched as he and Ginny embraced lovingly beneath the 'The Brewer' sign. And for the first time since hearing the news, Harry broke out into a real smile.

* * *

 **A/N:** There we go. I hope you've all enjoyed the first instalment of this story. I imagine you must have if you are still reading by this point. Please let me know what you thought and in the mean time I'll continue working on the next chapter.

Bye for now.


	2. Mudblood

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

Harry panted hard as he ran on the treadmill, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and working up a fair sweat as he listened intently to the person speaking from the phone plugged into his ear.

"Yes sir, it should be on your desk," he panted, his words coming out in gasps and splutters as he juggled speaking and breathing. "Yes… No, we don't need to get involved in that." Harry quickly paused the treadmill as he felt a strong hand tap on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, but could you keep your voice down," the large well-built man standing beside his machine spoke irritably, looking as though he'd just come from his own intense physical workout. "People are trying to work out around here."

"Sorry," Harry huffed exhaustedly, glancing around the gym to find several other people glancing with disgruntled looks in his direction. "I'll try to-"

He was cut off as the phone in his ear suddenly came to life again, the voice on the other end streaming through. Pulling the earpiece out he handed it towards the man before him. "He wants to speak to you."

The man took the phone, still looking at Harry suspiciously, before plugging it into his own ear. Starting up the treadmill again, Harry kept an ear out for the conversation taking place next to him; a rather one sided conversation at that. After just a minute Harry found his phone being held out before him. The bodybuilder of a man did not say a word as Harry accepted the device and placed it back in his ear.

"I've got the bill under control," Harry stated as though nothing had happened, his speech clearing up after the short break. "You don't need to be worrying about that."

"I believe you, Harry," the Minister replied from the other end of the line. "But it's going to be a close call…"

"I've got the votes, sir," Harry assured him. "We'll be fine."

"Good," said the Minister. "I'm having a meeting with the Senior Staff at noon. Hermione wants to discuss something to do with the Scottish National Quidditch Team, if you know anything about that…?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," Harry replied, glancing at the clock on the wall and mentally doing the maths. "And I'll be there."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later," the Minister concluded genially before the line went dead. Harry slipped his earpiece smoothly into his pocket, glancing up at the clock face again and redoing the calculations in his head. Sighing, he stopped the treadmill, disappointed by the low mileage he'd been able to achieve for the day. It seemed like every time he went to the gym his targets would get lower and lower and he'd still struggle to reach them before being called back to the office. Quickly wiping down the machine with his towel Harry strode back to the changing rooms, quickly finding his locker and pulling out his change of clothes.

"So you work for the Ministry," a voice said from across the room. Turning, Harry found the man he'd spoken to earlier sitting on a low bench with his back to the lockers, watching him with a look of wary interest.

"I'm the Communications Director," Harry answered. "I am entrusted with getting our message out to the public so they know what our values are and what they can expect from us."

"So you write speeches," the guy replied cautiously.

"Yes," Harry answered. "And I manage the organising of events to cultivate close ties with various factions of the public, I advise the Minister on which of our policies can and can not be accepted by the general populace and I work closely with the Press Secretary discussing what she can share during her numerous press conferences."

"Sounds like you're quite important," the guy said nervously, rubbing his hands together in obvious discomfort. "You must have some pretty serious security around you most of the time."

"All of the time," Harry corrected, an amused glint in his eye as he watched the man get ever more paranoid. "At this very moment there are aurors monitoring every single person entering and leaving this building."

The man paled. "Really?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course not," Harry laughed as he shrugged on his shirt, his hands working the buttons. "No, they keep a close eye on every person inside this building at all times, and they scouted the building before I got here too. Oh, that's me," he said as his phone started to buzz. "Hello."

"Harry, are you near a TV?" Neville's strained voice answered.

"Yes," Harry responded tensely, slightly worried by Neville's tone of voice.

"Turn it on," was all Neville said before he hung up. Harry dropped the phone back into his pocket as he made his way swiftly across the room, moving to turn on the small black TV perched in the top corner. As the screen flickered to life Harry was not pleased to see the blond hair and aristocratic features of one Lucius Malfoy.

"Our nation is in a decrepit state," he proclaimed smoothly, standing regally as a reporter held a microphone towards him. "And we will not begin to heal until our Ministry realises this undeniable truth and confronts the root of the horrendous issues that face our society today. I am of course talking about those not born to our society and not educated in our ways. I speak of those who only begin to learn the most basic values of our lives by the time they reach their teenage years when we, the rightful citizens of our world, are already informed. These people do not know our ways and should not be held up for such glorified positions in our society; a society whose nuances are both staggeringly complicated yet whose truths are held as self evident to those who inhabit it."

"Shit," Harry muttered as he turned off the TV, letting out a long uneven breath in an attempt keep calm.

"Is he having a go at foreigners?" The man asked obtusely, watching Harry as he hurriedly finished buttoning his shirt and stuffed it into his trousers.

"No," Harry replied, throwing his tie around his neck. "Muggleborns."

* * *

Harry strode quickly into his office, gym bag slung over his shoulder, not even pausing for a second as he grabbed some files off his desk. He was gone before Cho could even stop to speak to him, shoving his bag into her arms as he passed.

"Harry, you've seen the news?" Ron asked earnestly as he jogged to catch up with him.

"Yeah, Neville called me at the gym," Harry replied as they took a sharp turn to the left, causing a few secretaries to scatter before them. "How the hell does Lucius Malfoy get away with speaking absolute rubbish after all these years?"

"He holds a position of power, people listen to him," Ron replied. "As bad as we may want to lynch him he's untouchable. That's the thing about Merlin's Order, job security for life."

"It's idiotic," Harry huffed. "It's arcane laws like that which make our job so damn difficult. Anyway, let's save it for the Minister's office. Do you know what's up with the Scots?"

"Their Quidditch Team?" Ron asked. "They won the World Cup."

"Seriously?" Harry responded loudly, causing several people to jump in surprise. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday," Ron replied. "Scotland beat Romania by 500 points in the final."

"500 points?" Harry asked incredulously. "Romania? How were Romania in the final? What happened to France, Brazil, Ireland, you know, the favourites?"

"Scotland beat France in the Quarter Finals," Ron replied. "Brazil were beaten by Portugal in the same round. Romania beat Germany in the Semi's and Ireland and Norway didn't even get past the group stages."

"Ridiculous," Harry said, shaking his head. "So, what's the issue?"

"The Scottish National Quidditch Team will be coming to the Ministry to meet the Minister, who will congratulate them on their rousing success," Ron replied. "We just didn't know about any of this until about ten minutes ago."

"You mean no one had noticed Scotland won the World Cup?" Harry questioned as they approached Daphne's desk.

"Some people did," Ron replied. "Just not the same people who have the authority to arrange something like this."

"So basically no one in the Senior Staff knew," Harry concluded.

"Well I'm sorry Harry, but we were a bit busy running the country at the time," Ron sniped back. "Hey Daphne, can we go in?"

"Go right ahead," Daphne waved them through, watching them amusedly as they continued their argument.

"Where was the World Cup held?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Argentina," Ron replied as they stepped into the office, Harry's eyes widening in shock as they did so.

"You've got him up to speed then, Ron," the Minister commented in amusement as he caught sight of them approaching, noting Harry's stunned expression.

"We have no ambassador in Argentina," Neville supplied to Hermione's confused look.

"Did the Argentinian's not have an issue with the lack of a British ambassador?" Harry asked as he approached the Minister's desk, acknowledging the rest of the Senior Staff.

"They did," Ron replied. "But we just didn't have an ambassador to inform us of that fact."

"I can't believe it," Harry muttered. "How long since we had an ambassador there?"

"We've never had an ambassador to Argentina," Amos told him simply. "We never thought to replace the guy the last regime used."

"Alright, this will be easy to sort out," the Minister said in a business like fashion. "Hermione, you go arrange this meeting with the Quidditch Team, Daphne has my schedule. Neville, you make some calls and find us an ambassador to Argentina. Now, the Malfoy situation."

"We shouldn't do anything," Harry spoke up immediately, Ron nodding fervently beside him. "Everyone knows Malfoy is a bigot who is only still around because no one can fire him. No one is going to take him seriously and responding to his claims will just give his views a greater sense of legitimacy."

"I agree," Amos spoke. "We should do nothing, let this die down on it's own."

"Minister, I'm sorry, but I disagree," Hermione spoke up, her tone combatant. "Just because Malfoy's views are so obviously bigoted and ridiculously old fashioned doesn't mean we shouldn't speak out against him."

"I agree," Neville piped in. "I think we need to make a statement. Show the public we stand for equal rights."

"What do you suggest?" the Minister asked, directing his question at Hermione.

"We draft another Muggleborns Rights Bill," Hermione said. "The Wizengamot will easily pass it, especially in light of Malfoy's comments."

"The Merlin's Order won't though," Amos said. "Malfoy has enough support in there to block anything like that."

"All the better," Hermione responded. "Muggleborns have plenty of rights as it is, we don't actually need to increase them anymore. They're already on par with that of any other human magical citizen. But by forcing Malfoy to block it we'll be able to boost public support for the Ministry and throw a dark mark to Malfoy's name."

"Minister, this won't work," Ron spoke up, noticing how the Minister was slowly nodding along to Hermione's words.

"Why not?" Hermione asked, rounding on him. "Go through everything I just said and tell me where I'm mistaken. I would have thought you'd be the first to approve this plan given our popularity among muggleborn voters."

"The trade bill," Harry spoke up in Ron's stead, having taken a seat as the argument progressed. "If we announce that we're planning on introducing a Muggleborns Rights Bill we'll have members of the Wizengamot questioning our judgement. We could afford to lose at most 1 vote as things stand. It would only take one more of our supporters with a different view on Muggleborn rights to vote against us to defeat the bill."

"Harry's right," the Minister said heavily, bringing the discussion to a close. "I understand your argument, Hermione, and I agree it does sound feasible, but I'm not willing to risk this bill now. We'll ignore Malfoy and he'll go away."

"Okay, sir," Hermione accepted reluctantly. "What should I tell the press?"

"Tell them what you've heard in here," the Minister responded. "Lucius Malfoy's claim is designed purely to cause chaos among our ranks and we know better than to give him free publicity with which to express his views. Say that and nothing else, and we'll be fine."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, nodding to him respectfully.

"Alright, everyone, back to work," the Minister called, sitting behind his desk as his staff exited the room. They'd already vacated the office by the time Hermione spoke up again.

"I can't believe you guys didn't give my idea consideration," Hermione argued, rounding on Harry and Ron as they passed through the Minister's outer office.

"We did," Ron replied, annoyed. "And we decided that it wouldn't work."

"You decided that the trade bill was more important than a Muggleborn Rights bill," Hermione scoffed at him, moving so she could march alongside them. "It baffles me that for such supposedly liberal people you guys won't even take a second to-"

"Hermione, stop," Harry said sharply, coming to a halt and causing both Ron and Hermione to turn back to him. "You may think Muggleborn rights deserve more attention but I don't care. I've been working on this trade bill around the clock for nearly a month now and the vote will take place tomorrow. Don't mess this up."

He stalked away purposefully, leaving an annoyed Hermione huffing in his wake.

"He's right, Hermione," Ron informed her, causing her to whip round to face him. "We're barely going to pass this bill by the skin of our teeth. If we make this an issue, that just means we'll have to go through this all over again."

Hermione sighed frustratedly, angry that she couldn't argue her point but at the same time knowing what everyone was saying was making sense. "I'm going back to my office," she announced, starting to walk again. "I've still got to arrange for the Quidditch visit."

"I've got some notes on the Scottish National Team in my office, I'll send them through," Ron offered, calling after her.

"I don't follow Quidditch," Hermione replied over her shoulder.

"You do today," Ron countered as she turned down another corridor and disappeared out of sight.

* * *

"Good day, everyone, and welcome to the 3pm briefing," Hermione spoke as she strode to the podium at the front of the room. "I've got one brief announcement to make and then I'll open up the floor for questions."

"Tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock the Minister will be meeting with members of the Scottish National Quidditch Team and Support Staff," Hermione began. "This will include Manager, Douglas McDougall, Assistant Manager, Glen Cameron, the Head and Assistant Physios, Head Keeper, Chaser, Beater and Seeker Coaches as well as the full 18 man squad, with the exception of reserve Seeker Scott Gibb, who suffered a bludger collision in the Semi-final against Portugal and is currently being kept at St Mungo's for his own health."

"Hermione!" the mass of reporters started clamouring for her attention as she came to a stop.

"Donald," Hermione called.

"Hermione, does the Minister have a plan on how to properly congratulate Mr Gibb?" Donald asked. "Considering he won't be able to join in on this visit."

"The Minister has already begun drafting a letter of personal thanks which will be delivered to St Mungo's along with a commemorative pen by an appropriate Ministry official," Hermione answered smoothly, searching through a see of hands for the next question. "Annabelle."

"Hermione, there are rumours that certain members of the Ministry were unaware of the nation team's triumph, may I ask if these rumours have any truth to them?" Annabelle asked sweetly.

"Well I can confirm that I certainly didn't know due to my complete inability to understand the appeal of our world's most popular sport," Hermione answered to chuckles from the audience. "But I know many of my colleagues are great fans of the game and after raising seven children I can assure you this is the sort of thing the Minister keeps an eye on." Hermione looked through the crowd again. "Michael."

"Hermione, does the Minister have anything to say about the comments made by Lucius Malfoy about Muggleborn Rights earlier today?" Michael asked, cutting through to the serious business. A quick silence descended on the room as every reporter waited eagerly for Hermione's answer.

"Lucius Malfoy's views on Muggleborn Rights are his own and we have to respect that," Hermione stated. "However, this Ministry makes it a point to say we do not agree with his opinion and would like to take this opportunity to affirm our support of Muggleborn Rights."

"Surely you've got more to say?" Michael followed on, raising an eyebrow.

"Malfoy's remarks were designed to cause discord and the best thing for us to do is not give his beliefs a bigger platform from which to be expressed," Hermione responded shortly, quickly choosing another reporter. "Sophie."

"Hermione, what's the Minister got to say about the remarks made by Alea Reed, Warlock of the Wizengamot?" Sophie asked, catching Hermione slightly off guard.

"Well, I have to admit I haven't heard about what Warlock Reed has to say," Hermione admitted. "But I can assure you that my colleagues will be aware of her position and I'll be able to supply you with an answer to your question during the next press conference," Hermione finished, picking up her papers and moving to leave.

"Hermione, do you take it personally the words Lucius Malfoy used today?" Donald spoke up from the crowd, stopping her mid step.

"Excuse me," Hermione responded, raising her eyebrows.

"'Glorified positions in our society', clearly Councillor Malfoy was referring to you when he made those comments," Donald pointed out.

"Undoubtedly Mr Malfoy was making a direct jab at me as I am one of the more visible muggleborns in government," Hermione replied waspishly. "But yes, I do take this personally, and I'm sure muggleborns up and down the nation think the same way." Hermione stalked out of the room, reporters shouting her name after her as she left the room.

"You shouldn't have answered the question." Hermione sighed in annoyance as Ron pulled up beside her.

"Really? Well thanks for teaching me that," Hermione responded sarcastically.

"Hermione," said Ron warningly.

"What did you expect me to say?" Hermione rounded on him. "I know I should have just left after the Reed question but after that what choice did I have?"

"Well, to start with you could have said something that wouldn't have enticed the nations' muggleborns into getting into a fit over the comments of one man," Ron argued back, his ears going red as he defended himself.

"Maybe they have a right to be angry," Hermione shot back. "Maybe it's natural to be angry when someone who is supposed to be representing your best interests claims you're a second class citizen."

"This isn't about representing the people, Hermione," Ron argued back. "Everyone knows Malfoy is full of shit. The only reason you don't seem to be noticing that is because you're taking this personally. The reporter was right, you've got nothing but rage in your head. Maybe I should be taking the press conferences until this has blown over."

Hermione stopped dead. "Are you questioning my ability to do my job?" She asked, her voice dangerously low.

"Yes, because you haven't shown me anything to prove you can," Ron hit back. There was silence as the two of them stood there, silently seething at each other as everyone else gave them a wide berth.

"I'm a professional," Hermione said quietly but firmly. "I will do the press conferences." Her voice left no room for argument. "What's the Reed story?"

Ron took a second to weigh up her response before he answered. "Warlock Alea Reed has publicly denounced Lucius Malfoy's comments and has called upon the Minister to introduce further reform to protect muggleborn rights."

"That's hardly surprising," Hermione commented. "Alea Reed is a well known muggleborn rights activist, she got elected to the Wizengamot on that issue."

"Yes, well, if that was all we'd be fine as long as we took a couple of days to make our decision," Ron said tiredly. "As it happens Reed has called for the muggleborn rights clauses to be attached to the trade bill."

"Oh," Hermione sighed in realisation.

"That's right," Ron sighed. "Harry's been getting calls for the past ten minutes, Warlocks either complaining about the muggleborn rights clause or saying they won't sign unless there is one."

"That's bad," Hermione said, biting her lip. "Reed is coming up to the Ministry?"

"Harry's meeting her as soon as she gets here," Ron answered. "Hopefully we'll be able to convince her to calm her supporters down, and hopefully that'll just leave us with convincing the others there won't be any clauses attached." Ron sighed. "Either way Harry's going to be working late tonight, I was wondering if the three of us could have some dinner together in my office, just, you know, to give Harry a break."

"Oh, uh, I would but, I, uh," Hermione stuttered, surprising Ron. "I've got a date tonight."

"A date?" Ron repeated, blinking stupidly back at her.

"Yeah, it's just this guy down my street who wanted to see if I was up for anything," Hermione rambled. "I figured, you know, I'm not going to get many opportunities while working this job…"

"Yeah, right, good call," Ron stuttered back. "I just offered for Harry, you know, so it's cool. And if you do have time you can always join us, not that there'd be any reason you'd need to, I mean, I'm sure, I wasn't…" Ron trailed off as his ears started burning red and a layer of sweat built up on his forehead.

There was a long moment of silence between them as they each avoided looking directly at each other, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot thinking of what they should do next.

"I've got to get back, you know, for work," Ron said after a while, gesturing vaguely as he avoided looking at Hermione's face.

"Yeah, me too," Hermione stammered, her face flushed.

"Right, well, see you around," Ron mumbled as he stumbled away.

"See you later," Hermione replied in a slightly high pitched voice before blushing and turning back to her office. They split their separate ways, leaving Assistant to the Press Secretary, Demelza Robins, sitting at her desk shaking her head at the pair of them.

* * *

"Harry."

Harry looked up from his desk, a vein pulsing dangerously in his forehead. "Another call?" Harry asked dispiritedly.

"Alea Reed is in Meeting Room 2," Cho informed him, standing at the entrance to his office.

"Finally," Harry muttered, jumping to his feet and rounding his desk, adrenaline flowing through his veins. "Took her long enough."

"Harry, wait," Cho spoke, causing Harry to stop. She reached up and fixed his tie, which he had knotted up badly over the last half hour. "There you go."

"Thanks Cho," Harry said, sweeping out of the room, slightly calmer after the brief stop he'd taken. He ignored various greetings and questions he received as he swept through the corridors and eventually reached Meeting Room 2. Taking a second to steady himself, Harry opened the door and stepped into the room.

Alea Reed was young, blond and attractive, but Harry knew better than to underestimate her. She may have been even younger than he was but she'd made good use of her years already, campaigning ceaselessly for muggleborn rights.

"Warlock Reed, thanks for meeting with me," Harry spoke. "I'm Harry Potter, the Communications Director."

"Please, call me Alea," Reed said kindly, giving Harry a glowing smile. Harry didn't reciprocate.

"Do you know why I wanted to speak with you?" he asked, taking a seat across from her.

"I assume it is about the trade bill you're trying to pass through the Wizengamot," Reed replied, slightly put off by Harry's demeanour. "I assume you've had time to speak to the Minister to decide what sanctions should be added to the bill."

"No," Harry said quietly, shaking his head in despair.

"No, that's not what you wanted to talk about or no, you haven't had time to speak to the Minister?" Reed asked.

"No, we will not be adding sanctions to the trade bill," Harry replied, his annoyance filtering through to his voice.

"Why not?" Reed asked, flabbergasted. "I was under the impression this Ministry stood to represent all members of our society equally, so why would you not support muggleborn rights?"

"We're not saying we're not supporting muggleborn rights," Harry responded tiredly. "I'm saying we're not attaching it to the trade bill."

"Why not?" Reed asked. "If you do plan on increasing muggleborn rights this is the way to do it. If you take the time to draft a different bill for this it could take months to even reach the Wizengamot."

"Warlock, that's the point," Harry retorted, banging his hand down on the table angrily. "I've been working on getting this trade bill passed for nearly a month now. I had the votes, but now I've been getting calls from people all morning saying they can't vote for my bill if there either is or isn't a muggleborn clause attached."

"So you're saying muggleborn rights take a back seat because otherwise you'd have to work harder?" Reed countered bitingly. "Muggleborn rights aren't even worth one day of hard work?"

"Listen, lady!" Harry shouted, banging his whole fist against the table this time. "You may call me lazy but for the last week I've barely been home. I've been working night and day on getting this bill passed and now we are just over 24 hours away and I've got to make 60 or 70 calls to assure everyone that nothing has changed."

There was silence in the room.

"You know, when I came in ten minutes ago I did so with the hope that we'd achieve something today," Reed said stiffly. "Instead I've found out that the Ministry I've supported so strongly is nothing but a sham."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Harry, the Minister wants to see a summary of the Gringotts speech," Cho said as she walked into the doorway.

Harry sighed for a moment, placing a finger to his head to try and think clearly. "I've got a draft of the speech on my desk, marked 'Gringotts'," he said, eyes closed as he tried to visualise his desk. "It should be close to the lamp. Pass it over to Ron and send him to see the Minister, I've gone through it with him already."

"You've got a couple more calls waiting," Cho added. "Brandon and Masterson."

"They'll be pro muggleborn rights," Harry sighed. "Tell them I'll call them back as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir," Cho nodded before striding out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Let's start over," Harry sighed after a brief silence as he turned back to Alea Reed. "I shouldn't have used my tiredness as an excuse, and for that I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Reed replied warily, knowing this was only the start of another round of arguments.

"The reason we don't want this muggleborn clause is not just to do with the fact we don't think it'll pass," Harry started, leaning forward in his seat. "The truth is it's not really necessary."

"Not necessary?" Reed countered, quickly working herself into a rage. "19% of wizarding Britain is made up of muggleborn witches and wizards yet 32% of the people in the lowest wage bracket are muggleborn. Purebloods still maintain a disproportionate share of the highest paying jobs and even in jobs where purebloods do not dominate the space is taken by halfblooded employees."

"While I admit you are undoubtedly an expert in this particular field," Harry conceded, quickly interjecting to cut her off mid flow. "I think you're twisting the numbers here, or at least blind to what they truly tell us."

"Oh really," Reed countered angrily. "You've got some numbers to say we treat muggleborns equally do you?"

"Yes, I do," Harry replied. "Just look at yourself. You are a part of the muggleborn community in the Wizengamot that makes up 49 of the 199 seats. In this very ministry 20% of our senior staff are muggleborn."

"If we're doing this by examples I've got a couple for you," Reed replied hotly. "Muggleborns make up 12% of newspaper editors, 9% of reporters and only 3% of photographers."

"I was giving you the examples of _the_ most important industries in our world," Harry pointed out. "The two governmental bodies designed to run the country both include more than a fair share of muggleborns, and indeed voters vote for muggleborns more than population statistics would suggest. But you're right, these aren't the numbers we want to look at." Harry pulled a file out of the folder before him and started reading from it.

"19% of our population are muggleborns," he repeated. "While muggleborns do make up a remarkably high number of our lowest paid workers they also make up only 4% of our unemployed, with a large portion of our unemployed being classified as pureblood or newly halfblood. As you rightly pointed out muggleborns are severely underrepresented in the media but they do make up 59% of teachers, 32% of potion makers and, rather surprisingly, 26% of Quidditch players."

Harry looked up from his paper at Reed, noticing the slight hesitation in her eyes that told him he'd won. "You can sit there and tell me that this is a battle worth fighting," Harry said, leaning forward in his seat. "But I've got the numbers here to say you've already won."

There was a long silence as Reed sat back in her chair, eyes wandering the room so she wouldn't have to face Harry. "You've certainly come more prepared than I had anticipated," she said eventually, still not meeting his gaze. "Your debate style is admirable."

"It's easy to debate when you're right," Harry responded. "I know we have problems in our world, and with people like Lucius Malfoy in positions of power we always will have. You've been a fantastic servant to the people in your time as a Warlock of the Wizengamot, perhaps now you just need to find a new cause."

Reed looked at him as he said this, eyes clouded with indecision. "I never expected this meeting to go like this," she said quietly.

"I did," Harry responded, causing her head to snap back up to him. "This is exactly how I thought this meeting would go. And I'm going to tell you how it'll end." Reed didn't put up any resistance as he spoke, instead listening intently to every word. "You'll leave this room and bump into the press upon leaving the Ministry building. You'll admit your call to the Minister was rash and that you support the position the Ministry have taken on the issue. Then you'll turn up tomorrow and vote 'yes' for the trade bill."

Reed nodded absentmindedly, clearly still not really in the conversation. Leaning over, Harry placed a comforting hand on her arm, causing her to look up into his gaze. She nodded more firmly, pulling herself together as she stood up from her seat. She started to make her way to the door but stopped halfway there.

"Muggleborns make up 40% of all firings," she told him. "Some employers hire muggleborns to look good and then fire them after only a few weeks. Things aren't right yet."

"For that issue we would be better to introduce workplace reform rather than muggleborn reform," Harry countered. "Don't worry about not having a cause to fight for. You're very respected inside this Ministry and I'm sure I'm not the only one happy that you help decide our laws."

"Thank you," Reed said, still slightly unsure of herself. She turned to leave but paused again. "I'll talk to Brandon and Masterson and get them to calm down," she said, slipping back into the same confident persona she'd started with. "And I think it's safe to say that Tracey Milford will need a talking to."

Harry smiled slightly. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Once you've spoken to them could you drop a note to my office, it'll really help me out."

Reed nodded as she left the meeting room and stepped out into the corridor beyond. She'd only managed to take a few steps before she collided with someone coming round the corner. "Sorry," a voice said apologetically as she turned towards her mysterious assailant. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"That's alright," Reed replied, dusting herself down slightly as she took in the guy before her. "You're Neville Longbottom right, the Deputy Chief of Staff."

"Yes," Neville said in surprise. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you, have we met?"

"No, I just recognised you from the news," Reed replied. "I'm Alea Reed."

"From the Wizengamot," Neville finished for her, realising who she was. "I'm sorry I didn't recognise you, I just can't remember actually seeing a picture of you before," he apologised embarrassedly. "I mean, I've read all your papers on muggleborn rights and I knew you were young, but I never thought someone so smart could be so… beautiful."

Neville blushed fiercely as he realised what he'd said. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate, I shouldn't have said-"

"It's alright," Reed cut across him, her own face slightly pink. "It's never bad to hear someone call you beautiful."

Neville blushed even deeper. "Well, Miss Reed-"

"Alea," she cut in, to which Neville smiled.

"Alea, I know we've only just bumped into each other…" he winced at his unintended pun, "But would you perhaps like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"That would be nice," Alea smiled back. "I've got some work to do this evening but if we meet at about 9…"

"That would be great," Neville smiled in relief. "So should we meet at 9, say, at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I'll be there," Alea smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she moved to let someone past.

"See you later," Neville replied as Alea walked past him, smiling back over her shoulder as she went. Sighing in relief, Neville looked around and found Harry standing in the doorway to the meeting room, a large grin across his face.

"So, the meeting went well?" Neville said, coughing slightly to try and cover his embarrassment.

"Not as well as yours did," Harry replied, grinning as Neville come to a stop before him. "Neville…" he said, shaking his head in amusement as he walked away, leaving a blushing and slightly confused Neville behind him.

* * *

"Yes, I wish to speak to Ben Walker," Harry spoke clearly through the phone, trying to hide his irritation. "Ben Walker, no, not Ken, Ben Wa- with a B." There was a knock on his door as Ron appeared, holding two packages of food in his hands. Harry nodded him inside, still listening to the phone.

"No, you don't understand," he said loudly, trying to convey himself clearly. "I want to speak with Ben Walker, Warlock Walker. Right, no not-," Harry sighed as he was cut off again. "Yes I'll hold."

"Tough going?" Ron said, placing Harry's food on the table and taking a seat across from him.

"My patience is wearing very thin, Ron," Harry said tiredly, idly fingering his bag with his free hand. "I might have a psychotic break."

The phone in his hand started making noises again and Harry turned his attention back to it. "Yes, Ben Walker," Harry said. "So when will he next be in the office?" Harry waited for a second. "Tell him I'll call him then," he said, pausing as the other person spoke again. "Harry Potter."

The phone went dead and he set it down tiredly on the desk. Harry rubbed his eyes for a second and then made a small note on the parchment in front of him, before lifting the phone up again.

"Harry, wait," Ron said as Harry started to dial another number. "Give it a break, nobody will be in anymore."

Harry paused for a moment, unable to decide what to do, before he sighed and dropped the phone back onto his desk, a glance towards the clock on the wall finally convincing him. "I guess it can wait till morning," he said tiredly, taking his list of names from his desk and sticking it up on his bulletin board.

"How many more have you got?" Ron asked.

"15-16," Harry replied, playing with his food. "It really depends on whether Reed's come through on her end of the deal."

"Did that go well?" Ron asked.

"About as well as could be expected," Harry replied vaguely. "She's not going to push anything at any rate."

They looked up together at the sound of high heels coming through towards the office.

"Whoa, Hermione, looking good," Harry said appreciatively, grinning and causing Hermione to blush and self consciously smooth down her form fitting black dress. "You going somewhere nice?"

"No," Hermione sighed, taking the other seat at Harry's desk and slumping into it. "I've just come back."

"What happened?" Ron asked curiously, trying to avoid the appearance he was staring.

"Well, everything was going well," Hermione said sadly. "He picked me up at my place, told me I looked beautiful and gave me flowers. We had a laugh or two over some wine and then I made the mistake of telling him I work for the Ministry."

"Ooh," Harry winced in sympathy. "I take it that didn't go down well."

"He was like a whole different person," Hermione complained. "He got all nervous and started stuttering and he kept trying to sound smarter than he was, talking about the economy and elections. Then he capped it all off by saying 'yeah, child labour's a bitch'."

Harry winced at that. "So what did you do?"

"I don't know," Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "I'd been listening to him ramble for about twenty minutes when my pager went off. I just told him I was needed back at work and left." Hermione sighed. "Why are guys like this?"

"It's not just guys," Harry replied solemnly. "Girls do this too."

"Wait, when has this happened to you?" Ron asked. "You're going out with my sister."

"This was before I met Ginny," Harry explained. "It was back at my old job, before I joined you guys. I helped run the campaign for Darrel Pierce for Liverpool City Council and after we got in I worked fairly high up the command chain."

"So what was the problem for you?" Hermione asked. "I thought it was that guys didn't like knowing their date was smarter than them."

"That is the case, for guys," Harry agreed. "But for girls the problem was I was always working. Nights, mornings, they couldn't deal with the fact that I had a job that was simply more important than they were."

"Do you think that's why you and Ginny have worked so well?" Hermione asked.

"I think it's one of the reasons," Harry agreed. "She's had so many family members in politics she understands how much work we have to put into it on a daily basis."

"So you're saying that only inter office relationships work?" Ron said disbelievingly. "Cause I've heard it's not a good idea to date the people you work with."

"I think that rule is just for when you're not serious about the relationship," Hermione interjected. "I believe the rule is you shouldn't sleep around with the people you work with."

Harry nodded. "During my time at Liverpool City Council I only had one serious relationship," he said. "There was this woman in legal named Natalie, really nice, funny, we dated for nearly a year without work really affecting us."

"What happened?" Ron asked.

"I moved to run the Weasley campaign," Harry replied simply, picking at his food. "Our relationship nosedived pretty quickly after that." Harry paused as he noticed someone passing his door. "Hey, Neville!" he called, causing Ron and Hermione to twist in their seats.

A second later Neville reappeared at the door, dressed up in a crisp white shirt and formal trousers with shiny black shoes to complete the ensemble. "Hey guys," he said sheepishly, well aware of their gaze on his clothing.

"Hey Neville," Hermione said, smiling at him. "You look nice all dressed up."

"Thanks, Hermione," Neville said, blushing slightly.

"So, who's the lucky girl?" Hermione asked, smiling kindly as Harry and Ron gave him slightly more worrying predatory grins.

"I'd rather not say," Neville hedged, glancing slightly to Ron as he edged forward in his seat.

"Alea Reed," Harry blurted out, completely ignoring Neville's desire to keep it quiet.

"Alea Reed? Warlock Alea Reed?" Ron said astonished. "Neville, you dog."

"Now, now," Hermione said admonishingly, hushing Harry and Ron as they cracked up with laughter. "Seriously Neville, that's great. I've heard Alea Reed is a very nice person."

"And hot," Ron added, to which Hermione rewarded him with a whack on the arm.

"And young," Harry added, grateful for the desk guarding him from Hermione. "She's a bit younger than us, isn't she?"

"I've heard it's rude to ask a woman her age," Neville said respectfully, earning a smile of approval from Hermione.

"That's right Neville," Hermione responded. "It's also rude to talk about other people behind their backs," she added, dealing out an admonishing glare to Harry and Ron. Despite themselves, the two boys did calm down.

"Hey, Neville, if you have the time could you ask her about the trade bill, I haven't heard from her yet?" Harry asked suddenly, remembering his conversation with her earlier.

"Harry," Hermione admonished. "Leave him alone. Seriously Neville, have a great time on your date."

"Thanks Hermione," Neville said gratefully. "I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Bye Neville," they called as Neville walked off, leaving the three of them alone again. They weren't alone for long as Cho strolled in, passing a note over to Harry.

"A response from Aidan Vincent," Cho explained.

"'After long consideration I have decided that I shall proceed with voting in favour of this bill as I had previously planned'," Harry read out loud. "Another down," he commented, crossing a name off another list he already had pinned on his notice board. "Cho, why don't you take the rest of the night off."

"Thank you, Harry," Cho replied, leaving his office. There was the sound of Cho filing her papers away before she pulled on her cloak and headed towards the exit, waving to the three of them as she passed Harry's office door.

"I think I'll head off as well," Ron announced. "So suppose you'll be going home tonight?" Ron questioned as he turned back to Harry.

"Yeah, hopefully I'll get a few hours sleep before it's time for me to come back in," Harry said, finishing off his meal and tossing the rubbish into the bin.

"Will you meet up with Ginny tonight?" Hermione asked interestedly.

Harry shook his head glumly. "Ginny's up in Orkney at the moment," he told her. "She's trying to negotiate a deal with an ingredient producer up there."

"Hermione?"

"I was going to look over the preparations for the Scottish Quidditch Team before I left," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It'll wait till morning though."

"I just need to clear up my desk first," Harry informed them, gesturing to the pile of papers littering his workspace.

"I need to get my cloak as well," Hermione admitted. "Meet up in the Atrium?" They nodded and split up, each of them destined for their own office.

Alone in his office again, Harry looked down at his cluttered desk wearily. With an effort he started to shift some papers, moving them into piles so his desk at least seemed more organised. Seeing Ron leaving in the distance Harry threw on his cloak and quickly made his way to the door, but not before looking down the lists on his notice board, dreading the work of the next day.

* * *

"And if you'll just follow me you'll see the Minister's outer office," Hermione announced as she led the band of tough looking scotsmen through the ministry. "This is Daphne Greengrass, the Minister's Senior Assistant, and Blaise Zabini, his Personal Aide." Hermione came to a stop before the closed office door.

"What's going to happen is this," she began. "You'll line up on the left side of the room with photographers on the right side. The Minister will come along the line and shake everybody's hand, maybe say a word or two as he goes, and then we'll bring out the signed shirt for you to present to the Minster."

Finishing her speech, Hermione knocked and peered into the office before opening the door fully and leading the scots into the flash of cameras as they stretched out across the room in an orderly line, even the wilder members of the squad staying quiet and respectful in the presence of the Minister of Magic.

"Here is the Scottish National Quidditch Team and Staff, Minister," Hermione said as she came to a stop next to the Minister, who was standing by his desk. "May I introduce the manager of the team, Douglas McDougall."

"Very pleased to meet you, Minister," Douglas said, shaking the Minister's hand vigourously. "It's an honour to have been invited here today."

"On the contrary, it has been an honour for us to have you here today," the Minister replied genially. "Too often we fall behind our international rivals but you and your fellow Scotsmen have brought us pride this summer."

"Thank you, sir," Douglas replied respectfully. "May I introduce my Assistant Manager, Glen Cameron."

"Very good to meet you, sir," Glen spoke, his accent a lot stronger than Douglas's had been.

"Likewise," the Minister replied. "I remember watching you play for the Wimbourne Wasps back in the day. My sons, Fred and George, always wanted to be like you and, what was his name, Geert Aiken, that's right. They spent hours watching recordings of your games and then practicing them with fallen apples from the orchard."

As the Minister was speaking Daphne was whispering in Blaise's ear at the door to the office. Skirting round the back of the photographers and past Demelza, who was keeping the photographers under control, Blaise walked up to the Minister and whispered something urgently in his ear. Hearing what was being said, the Minister's expression became serious.

"I must apologise," the Minister said abruptly, taking a step back to address all his guests. "A situation has come up that I must attend to immediately. I wish you all a very pleasant day on the rest of your trip round the Ministry. Hermione, could you…?"

"Of course, Minister," Hermione took over. "If you'd all like to follow me the next stop on our tour will be the press room, the room that is commonly used in order to rely important news to the public as soon as it is made available to the Ministry."

The Minister walked off in the other direction, opening the door connecting his office to Amos's to find his Chief of Staff already waiting for him. "What's happening?"

"A protest march outside of Manchester, sir," Amos replied, falling into step beside him as they made their way through his outer office and into the corridor.

"What are they protesting?"

"Scotland," Amos replied.

"It's Scottish people that are protesting?" the Minister questioned.

"No sir, it's English people protesting Scotland," Amos replied to the Minister's confusion.

"They're protesting against Scotland," the Minister repeated in bewilderment. "What has Scotland ever done to annoy them?"

"They're not so much protesting Scotland as they are protesting you meeting with the Scottish team," Amos cleared up.

"Why, they won the World Cup," the Minister complained. "Why should I not congratulate them?"

"The word is they're complaining because England did not have an invite to visit the Ministry when they won the World Cup 24 years ago," Amos explained.

"We weren't in office 24 years ago," the Minister countered. "What do they expect us to do?"

"I honestly don't think they know," Amos replied as he opened the doors to the Situation Room, leading the Minister inside. As one everyone in the room rose to their feet, not sitting down until the Minister had taken his place at the head of the table.

"Kingsley, run through the situation and get me caught up," the Minister said as he settled into his chair

"We've got a mob of about 60-65 people about 5 miles outside of Manchester making their way towards the town," Kingsley recounted promptly. "The crowd are waving magical banners with various anti-Scottish phrases upon them. So far they have remained relatively peaceful, although we are unsure how long that can last."

"Have we got any plans set to subdue them should they turn to violence?" the Minister asked.

"We've had teams of Aurors scouting the path they are likely to take and they've ascertained several locations where we would hold a distinct tactical advantage if a conflict were to occur," Kingsley replied.

"But the situation hasn't yet turned violent?" Amos clarified. "Are we making plans for a peaceful resolution?"

"We have sent out a negotiator with a standard 4 man security team to talk with the leader of the mob," Kingsley recited. "Each of them have a port key designed to take them straight back to the Ministry offices should they need to evacuate the scene."

"You aren't expecting a peaceful resolution, are you, Kingsley?" the Minister said quietly, catching the attention of everyone in the room.

"No sir," Kingsley replied. "Upon scouting the crowd we've found it compromises almost entirely of young males wearing various Quidditch shirts, I wouldn't have thought they'd be easy to calm. I also have little confidence with the control the leader has over this mob."

"Okay," the Minister accepted, pulling himself to his feet and causing everyone else to rise for him. "Call me when you hear word of our peace negotiations and we'll move from there. Keep the aurors on standby."

"Yes, sir," Kingsley said as the Minister left the room.

* * *

"Harry," Hermione said, knocking on his office door.

"Hey Hermione, how are the Scottish Quidditch Team?" Harry asked, taking a large bite out of his apple as he leaned back in his chair.

"Fine, the Minister had to go to the Situation Room halfway through their meeting and now I've left them to go talk to you," Hermione replied.

"So they're getting the real life Ministry treatment I see," Harry mumbled back, his voice partly obscured by the apple piece he was chewing. "What was the situation the Minister had to deal with?"

"Well, that's actually why I came to talk to you," Hermione said. "Amos told me a few minutes ago that the Ministry has sent out a negotiator in order to prevent the continuation of anti-Scottish riots outside Manchester."

"When did this happen?" Harry asked in surprise, leaning forward in his seat as he nearly choked on his apple.

"Just in the last couple of hours," Hermione answered. "I don't really have many details on this but I'm sure I'm going to have to cover it in my next press conference."

"Right," Harry agreed thoughtfully. "Did you want some help on that? I mean, that's why you came to see me?"

"No, actually," Hermione said delicately. "I'm going to be working on this so I need someone to watch the Scottish Quidditch Team."

"Oh, Hermione," Harry moaned. "I can't do that, I'm busy. Can't you just let whoever is watching them at the moment-" Harry paused. "Who is watching them at the moment?"

"The dinner ladies," Hermione replied shortly.

"Dear god," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Well, I'm sorry," Hermione continued. "I can't watch them and everyone else is busy."

"I'm busy," Harry complained.

"Amos is in the situation room with the Minister and Kingsley, Neville is busy doing Amos's job whilst he's in there, Ron's got his own things and covering the overflow from Neville and I can see from the parchment on your wall that you have only two warlocks left to contact," Hermione countered hotly. "Believe me, I wouldn't be asking if I had any other choice."

Harry sighed, shooting a glare at his notice board as if it was it's fault he was being sucked into this. "I suppose reminding you how much work I've done on this bill won't make you change your mind?" Harry said with little hope. "Very well, I suppose I can make the last couple of calls from the cafeteria."

"Thank you," Hermione said, leaving his office promptly having achieved her goal.

"Cho!" Harry shouted from his desk as he pulled various pieces of parchment into a bundle. "Gather your stuff and re-route everything to your mobile, we're going to work in the cafeteria."

"Why are we working in the cafeteria?" Cho responded, already with a pile of parchment in her arms, as Harry exited his office.

"We've been drafted in to babysit grown men," Harry replied as he strode down the corridor, Cho hurrying along in his wake. "It's not bad enough that they make me get this vote through on my own but they have to stick obstacles in my way as I go. Sometimes I feel like a rat who's been stuck in a maze just to see how smart it really is."

He strode through the cafeteria doors. "Hello, pleasure to meet you," he smiled politely to the mass of men before him. "I'm really sorry you're being run through the wringer today but we've got all sorts of things going on at the moment."

"That's not a problem, we understand there's a lot of work going on here," a man said as he approached. "Douglas McDougall."

"Nice to meet you. Thanks, Cho," Harry said as Cho took his papers from him so he could shake Douglas' hand. "I'm Harry Potter, the Communications Director, and I'm sorry to say that there's a lot of work I've got to do as well. I'm perfectly happy to answer any questions you have when I've got a break, but that may not be particularly often."

Harry shrugged apologetically as he took a seat at the table Cho had dumped his papers on. "Cho, do you happen to have a copy of the trade bill with you?" Harry asked as he sifted through his parchment.

"No, I left it behind," Cho answered from another table which she'd taken over as her desk.

"Damn, I'll have to go back and get mine," Harry swore, rubbing his forehead wearily. "Right, I want to have Ash Tyler and Paula Rake on the phone by the time I get back." Harry told Cho as he made his way back to the door.

"Who do you want first?" Cho asked, phone already held to her ear as she prepared to make the calls.

"Either, I don't care," Harry said as he made his way through the door, only stopping at the last second. "Try Paula first, she'll be easier to deal with."

* * *

"What's the news?" the Minister asked as he re-entered the Situation Room, ignoring how everyone stood when he walked in.

"As expected our attempts at a peaceful solution have been unsuccessful," Kingsley spoke softly. "Midway through negotiations our negotiator was struck by what we believe to be a bone breaking curse from a member of the crowd."

"You don't know for sure?" the Minister asked.

"No," Kingsley replied. "As per standard procedure in these situations three of the auror guard engaged the hostile force while the fourth port keyed back in order to alert us to our failed negotiation attempt."

"We haven't heard anything from the other auror's," Amos told the Minister.

"How long ago was this?" the Minister asked.

"As soon as we were alerted to the failure of our mission we immediately sent for you sir," one of the other members of the security council told him. "This can't have happened more than 10 minutes ago."

"But we'd have expected the auror's to have returned by now," the Minister said. "And they haven't."

"No sir," Kingsley agreed. "I believe at this point our only course of action is to engage the crowd when they reach the next strike point."

"How long will it take them to reach that point?" Amos asked.

"Twenty minutes at their original pace," Kingsley informed him. "But if they've taken our men captive they may take longer."

The Minister leaned back in his chair heavily. "And we have nothing on the condition of the captives?" he asked tiredly.

"No sir," Kingsley told him. "We believe our negotiator was hit by a bone breaking curse in the left shoulder or upper chest. We know nothing about what has happened since our auror left the scene."

"It's a sad thing to fight against your own citizens," the Minister said sorrowfully. "Why must it always come to this?"

"Minister, if we do nothing we allow these rioters to further risk breaching the statute of secrecy," another member of the council told him. "The obliviators are already working round the clock to keep the muggles away."

"Amos, what do you think?" the Minister asked his chief of staff, blocking out everyone else in the room.

"I think it's not just the Statute of Secrecy and Civil Order that we have to worry about now," he said softly. "It's the safety of our men." The Minister nodded slowly at these words, thinking hard.

"I can order a strike at our next strike point, Minister," Kingsley told him. "Just say the word and it will be done."

The Minister nodded. "Do it," he said with conviction. "Try and catch as many as you can but the first priority is the safety of our men."

"Yes sir," Kingsley said as he started to relay the message to his field operatives.

"Let me know when we start hearing things," the Minister said as he rose to his feet, walking out the door with Amos right behind him. "God, I hope I'm doing the right thing."

* * *

"Can I speak with Warlock Tyler?" Cho asked as she spoke on her mobile phone.

"Hi, Paula, I'm so glad you had the time to speak with me," Harry greeted his Warlock on his own mobile phone as he paced the length of the room. "I just wanted to have a brief word about the trade bill that's going to be voted on this evening."

"I'm calling on behalf of Harry Potter, the Communications Director at the Ministry," Cho spoke on her line, fingering the parchment before her distractedly.

"Yeah, I just wanted to check everything was alright with you for the vote," Harry said politely.

"Yes, Harry was just wondering if he could speak about the trade bill," Cho said patiently.

"I'm so glad we agree," Harry said, leaning back slightly on his heels as he noticed Cho waiting for him, keeping the phone on hold. "Thank you so much Paula, take care." Harry hung up the phone.

"Tyler wants to meet with you in person," Cho announced as soon as he was off the phone.

"Figures, he always likes to intimidate people in meetings," Harry sighed. "Tell him to come over here," he said as Cho prepared to go back to the phone. "No, tell him to come over here now, I don't want to give this guy any leeway."

Cho nodded as she went back to the phone, relaying Harry's message. After a minute of listening Cho gave a confirmative nod to Harry as she ended the call.

"Well," Harry said, turning his attention to the rest of the room. "Looks like I've got some free time, is there anything anyone wants to ask me?" Most of the guests hadn't even noticed he'd start talking, having grown bored of Harry's politics talk on the phone. From one of the back tables a hand was raised.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, gesturing for the young, spotty teenager to go ahead.

"You said you were the Communications Director," the teenager said tentatively. "What exactly do you do?"

"Well," Harry said, quickly thinking how best to describe his job. "Basically, I decide how best to get our message across to the public," he said simply. "Whenever the Minister is speaking at a conference or something like that it'll be my words he's using."

"But what about the Press Secretary," one of the older players spoke. "I was under the impression she wrote what she says."

"She does," Harry agreed. "Hermione's job is to just tell the press and, through them, the public what's going on. My job is more along the lines of how we present our ideals and get across our message. Hermione doesn't need me, and for that matter the Minister is a very articulate and well spoken man."

"So why do they have you writing speeches?" another person asked.

"Because there is a hell of a lot of them," Harry said with a chuckle. "If the Minister had to properly think about everything he was saying at all these various events he'd have a mental breakdown. I decide in my office well in advance what the Minister will and will not say, and that is something that is very difficult to decide on your own in the heat of the moment when you've already been talking for twenty minutes and still have another half hour to go."

"But that's not all I do," Harry explained. "As you no doubt have heard there is a bill we are trying to pass this evening and it is part of my responsibilities as Communications Director to get enough Warlocks of the Wizengamot to get on board to pass the bill."

"How difficult is it to get people to vote your way?" was a question from the crowd.

"It depends on the bill," Harry shrugged. "Things like improved working conditions and better human rights are going to be voted for by virtually everyone. These things have been more or less completely done already, so the bills we try to get past tend to be much more contentious."

"Can you give us an example?" Douglas asked.

"Well, this bill we're having today I've been working on for nearly a month now," Harry told them. "The idea is that we raise import taxes to allow our own industries to flourish without being forced out of work by cheaper foreign imports. The problem with this is that it's difficult to convince everyone of where we draw the line, for example, how high can we raise the tax before we drive foreign industries away completely."

"I thought that was the idea, to use British industry," one of the players said.

"Yes, but if we completely drive away foreign markets they won't buy from us either," Harry countered, really getting into the discussion. "The real debate is how far do we think we can get away with raising the tax and how far do we need to raise the tax. Very few people completely agree on this and as such, if I can convince Tyler to vote on this bill, it will only pass by two votes. I'm having to put an awful lot of faith in these people sticking to their word."

"Harry," Cho spoke up suddenly, phone to her ear. "Tyler has arrived, Colin is just bringing him through here."

"Great," Harry said, clearing space on his desk for the most relevant files. "Em, just an idea, but if you guys try and look intimidating that would really help me out here," Harry said to the team, who chuckled at the idea.

The doors opened soon after, the diminutive Colin Creevey leading confident tall Ash Tyler forward.

"Ah, Harry," Tyler said grandly, waltzing in as though he owned the place. "I see you've left that old office of yours for brighter horizons." His confidence wavered slightly as he spotted the mass of tough looking men in the room, some of them even taking Harry's words to heart and glaring at him with very realistic hate.

"Well, sometimes I just get so hungry in my office that I can't bare the long walk for food," Harry said dryly. "Just another problem I have yet to solve," he finished, eyes boring into Tyler's.

"I thought you'd be wanting to talk about that," Tyler said knowingly, regaining some of his confidence as he turned away from the scotsmen. "You are much too easy to read."

"It does help that my assistant informed you of what this meeting was about," Harry countered. "Take a seat," he said, kicking the seat across from him out from under the table.

"Thank you," Tyler said in an overly polite tone. "Now, down to business. I'm afraid it is simply impossible for me to vote on this bill anymore."

Harry sighed. "Oh well, thanks for coming," he said, standing briskly up from his table.

"Wait, what?" Tyler questioned as he looked up at Harry in surprise. "You aren't going to try and convince me otherwise?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't need to," he said simply. "I've got enough votes to pass the bill. This meeting was nothing more than a courtesy really."

"Wait, so you're telling me you never even planned to try and change my mind?" Tyler questioned, his voice irate. "You dragged me out of my office just to have some fun with me?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said thoughtfully. "I mean, things might have been different if I thought there was any hope of swaying your opinion, but you said yourself…"

"Unbelievable," Tyler said, standing up angrily. "Don't expect any vote from me."

"I don't think I ever did," Harry replied calmly as he stared at Tyler's reddening face. "You're a stubborn man Ash, and you rarely do what you really need to."

Tyler was almost apoplectic with rage at this point, a finger held between them in an accusatory manner. With a grunt of anger Tyler pulled himself away and started storming towards the door.

"I'm glad I can count on your vote," Harry said calmly to Tyler's retreating back, who stopped dead at his words.

"Did you not hear me?" Tyler said, voice dangerously low. "You can kiss your votes goodbye, on this or any other bill you may want to pass."

"I heard you," Harry responded. "I just don't believe you. You and I are not that dissimilar in terms of policy. That's why I know I can count on your vote, because you want this bill passed."

Tyler seemed to deflate as Harry spoke, his red cheeks paling as his whole body seemed to sag. "Then why did you do this?" he asked in disgust. "This whole charade of a meeting, what was this to achieve?"

"The very thing it has achieved," Harry responded. "The understanding that we knew all along you were going to vote yes on this bill. It just seemed you needed to be reminded that you need us much more than we need you."

"So that's what this was all about," Tyler said snidely. "You proving that you can control me, make me do whatever you want just because you know I stay true to my beliefs."

"What this was all about," Harry said softly. "Was that you never mess about with us. You don't go and threaten to vote no on a bill when we know you just want to make us sweat over it. If you mess us around, we've got the power to do it ten times as bad right back."

Harry sat down and started reading over his papers, not sparing a glance for Tyler. "Colin will show you the way out," he said dismissively.

For perhaps a minute Tyler stood there, caught between leaving and confronting him, before finally he turned sharply on his heels, striding out the doors without even waiting for Colin to show him the way.

Glancing at the still swinging door, Harry crossed off the last name on his list with a flourish, a grin settling across his features.

Suddenly the sharp sound of slow clapping cut through the silence as Glen Cameron started off a round of applause that spread to several other members of the tour. "That was quite impressive," Douglas said to him quietly, causing Harry to grin a little more in response.

Suddenly the doors opened again and Ron strode into the room. "Get the TV on," Ron barked at one of the dining staff cleaning up tables, who immediately jumped to do as he was told. Within seconds the whole room found themselves staring up at Hermione's serious face.

"I've got an announcement to make and then I'll have time for a few short questions," Hermione said, business like. "Earlier today we were made aware of an anti-Scottish protest forming outside of Manchester. The Ministry sent a negotiator with a standard four auror guard in order to prevent a conflict from occurring, with worries that the nature of their banners would cause a breach of the Statute of Secrecy. We received a report that the negotiator was attacked by a member of the crowd and was taken captive along with three of the auror's, the fourth returning to the Ministry and alerting us of the incident."

"Due to the unprovoked attack the Minister ordered an auror raid on the group two miles outside the Manchester city limits," Hermione continued. "The auror's were able to arrest 42 of the estimated 60 rioters and succeeded in retrieving the captives. The three captured auror's are currently being held in the auror hospital for overnight observation but are expected to make a quick recovery. The Ministry negotiator is currently being operated on under a magically induced coma in St Mungo's and it is as yet unknown how well he will recover."

There was a brief silence in the press room in respect, before reporters started raising hands. "Michael?" Hermione pointed.

"These anti-Scottish riots," Michael started. "Would they have anything to do with the fact the Scottish Quidditch Team visited the Minister earlier today?"

"That is the reason the rioters gave," Hermione confirmed. "They brought up that 24 years ago the English Quidditch Team weren't invited to see the Minister after they won the World Cup."

"Is there anything to their cause?" Michael asked.

"No," Hermione replied shortly. "This is not some pro-Scottish bias by the Ministry. We would have invited the English team had they won, similarly with Wales and Northern Ireland. What we really should be taking away from this is that one of our own scaled the heights of the most demanding sporting tournament in the world and won. We should all be celebrating that."

Hermione pointed to another reporter as Demelza appeared on screen, whispering something into her ear. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Sophie, but I've just received some additional information to share with you," Hermione said, interrupting the reporters question, her voice catching slightly as she spoke.

"The Ministry negotiator, Bruce Donoghue, died on the operating table ten minutes ago," Hermione announced sadly. "He is survived by his wife Caitlin and his two sons, Derick and Luther. Our thoughts are with them." There was complete silence in the press room, and in the Ministry cafeteria.

* * *

"Ah, Blaise, are we ready to go?" the Minister asked as Blaise walked into his office.

"Yes, sir, your transport is waiting for you," Blaise nodded as he held out the Minister's robes to put on.

"Already leaving, Minister?" Amos asked as he walked into the room. "Not staying to see the outcome of the vote?"

"No, there is nothing more I can do here today," the Minister replied. "I've got an errand to run before I go back to Molly for the evening."

"Enjoy yourself, sir," Amos said calmly. "You've done good today."

"Have I?" the Minister asked sadly. "It doesn't feel like it." He sighed as he looked down at his desk. "Have you heard any news from Kingsley?"

"We've been going over the aurors' on duty records and have been looking to ascertain which of the rioters were involved in the assault," Amos told him. "The man to fire the bone breaking curse was a 24 year old white male who goes by the name of Bobby Miles. He has a record of common assault to his name already, as well as a few cases of vandalism."

"Bobby Miles," the Minister repeated. "Have they talked to him yet?"

"They have," Amos told him. "The auror's evidence was enough to warrant the administration of veritaserum."

"What did they find?" the Minister asked. "Was he sorry he killed a man?"

"No sir," Amos replied sorrowfully. "Some people do not live by the same moral code we accept as right for our nation." There was silence between them.

"I've got to go," the Minister said as he noticed Blaise waiting patiently by the door. "St Mungo's visiting hours close soon and I hate having to use the 'I'm the Minister' line more than I have to."

"Goodnight sir," Amos said as he made his way back to his office.

"Goodnight Amos," the Minister replied as he walked over to the other door, Blaise holding it open and following him out as he ventured into the halls of the Ministry. Hearing the sounds of cheers, the Minister strode silently through the corridors and found himself looking on at his staff as they gathered round to watch the vote, cheering every yes and booing every no.

"How's it going?" he asked as he sidled up beside Harry, keeping quiet so his presence would go unnoticed.

"It's early," Harry replied after a moments surprise. "We're losing 19 to 25 at this point but everyone has voted in line with what we thought so far."

"That's good," the Minister agreed as they watched Warlock Crystal Carran vote no to jeers from the room. "You've done a good job on this Harry," he told him. "Don't think we haven't noticed how hard you've been working this past month. You certainly deserve this victory."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said as the announcer prepared to call on Warlock Marty Colquhoun for his vote. The Minister left them to the party, confident that by tomorrow morning the bill will have passed the Wizengamot.

"Your port key, sir," a uniformed security officer told him, handing him a simple round disk with the words 'St Mungo' written upon it. Within seconds of him coming into contact with the disk the Minister felt the familiar hook below his navel as he was brought through a whirl of colour and sound to land with a slight thump at his destination, Blaise arriving beside him a moment later.

The Minister strode forward purposefully, taking no notice of the armed guard that flanked him as he walked. He wasn't entirely sure of his destination but he knew he was not leading, rather being escorted by the uniformed security men around him. Eventually they reached a private room, guarded by two security officers, which was opened as he approached, to the surprise of the occupant of the room.

"Scott Gibb," the Minister said as he walked into the room, drawing the wiry teenagers' attention away from the armed guard who had fanned out to each corner of the room. "I'm Arthur Weasley. It's a pleasure to meet you," the Minister said, shaking the shocked teens' hand.

"Eh, yeah, sir," Gibb replied stupidly, completely taken aback. "I mean, it's an honour to meet you Minister."

"The rest of your team came to visit the Ministry today," the Minister said conversationally. "I thought it would be remiss of me to ignore the 18th member of their squad."

"Oh, you didn't have to worry about that sir," Gibb said nervously. "I'm not important."

"Why do you say that?" the Minister asked interestedly.

"Well, because it's true," Gibb told him. "I'm just a reserve, the last player in the squad. I played for one game and got knocked out halfway through it."

"That's true," the Minister said thoughtfully. "On the other hand you played more than nearly half the squad did." the Minister paused to scrutinise Gibb carefully, taking in the pale complexion and bandaged head.

"You know, today the rest of your team presented me with a Scotland shirt of my own, with Weasley and number 8 on the back," the Minister told Gibb.

"I know," Gibb said. "I signed it."

"Indeed you did," the Minister acknowledged. "It was the number 8 that caught my eye," he continued thoughtfully. "Naturally there are seven players on the Quidditch field at a time for each team and it is often said that the home crowd are the 'eighth man' in the sense they give their team an extra advantage." Gibb nodded along to this, clearly having been familiar with the idea.

"In the World Cup you logged the eighth most amount of minutes for your team," the Minister told him. "You are the eighth man of your team and I think you don't realise how important you really are."

"How can I be important if I only played half a game?" Gibb asked.

"Let me tell you a story of another eighth man," the Minister said, pulling a seat round to sit on it. "His name was Bruce Donoghue and today he was sent out to negotiate a peaceful resolution with a group of protesters claiming the Ministry were showing a pro-Scottish bias by inviting them to the Ministry."

"Just a couple of hours ago Bruce died on the operating table after he was attacked by a member of the crowd." The Minister took a deep breath to steady himself before he turned to look back at Gibb. "Bruce wouldn't have considered himself an important part of this Ministry, not in the slightest. He was a humble man who came in everyday to do his job to the best of his ability."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Gibb said quietly, looking down at the sheets of his bed. "Did you know him well?"

"I'd never met him," the Minister said, causing Gibb to look up. "My Chief of Staff, deputy Chief of Staff, Press Secretary, Communications Director and Political Strategy Director hadn't met him either. But I saw the effect his death had on these people, and I'm sure they saw how it affected me."

"So what I'm really trying to say is," the Minister concluded. "You may not think of yourself as important, or even particularly good at what you do. But to your teammates, you are more important than you could possibly imagine."

"Thanks, Minister Weasley," Gibb said, glancing up from his bedsheets embarrassedly. "And I'm sorry about Mr Donoghue."

"As are we," the Minister said solemnly, his gaze drifting around the room at the faces of his armed guard, catching the sorrow even past their well trained neutral masks. "This world's lost a good man, may he rest in peace."

* * *

"Warlock Alea Reed," the announcer called out as he read names off the official list.

"Yes," Reed said firmly in response.

"Warlock Alea Reed votes yes," the announcer called out, the counter at the bottom of the screen adding another vote to the yes column, taking their total up to 89.

"Thank Alea for me," Harry told Neville as they watched the vote, smiling as the various other staff members cheered for Reed, Ron leading the charge.

"I will," Neville responded.

"How did your date go with her, by the way?" Harry asked, his gaze still firmly fixed on the TV screen. "I know you talked to her about the bill because she called me in the morning, but how did it go for you?"

"It was good," Neville replied. "Well, it was more than good actually. Alea is so kind and funny and she looks absolutely amazing, three things I never expected from a Warlock on the Wizengamot."

Harry chuckled. "Are you worried work might interfere with your relationship?" he asked, sipping on his bottle of butterbeer.

"I did think about that," Neville said earnestly. "But I never really work with the Wizengamot anyway, that's more your job. I figure if we keep work out of our private lives then we should be fine."

"Do you really think you'll manage that?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Reed is very opinionated and not afraid to speak her mind, I can't imagine she'll be much different in private."

Neville shrugged. "What couple doesn't have their problems?" He was cut off as Ron charged through the various seated staff, bottle of champaign ready in his hand.

"One more vote guys, one more vote," he shouted excitedly, getting to the front so he was closest to the screen.

"Warlock Mark Trent," the announcer called as everyone in the room fell quiet.

"No," Trent said, leading to shouts and groans from the room as the various staff members complained.

"Was Trent ever likely to vote yes?" Neville asked Harry quietly, to which Harry shook his head in amusement.

"Warlock Ash Tyler," the announcer called, Ron shushing the crowd as Tyler stood from his seat.

"Yes," he said, with no hint of hesitation.

"Warlock Ash Tyler votes yes," the announcer called as the room erupted in cheers as everyone jumped up in celebration. The screen was blocked from view as the counter of yes votes moved to 100 and a banner came up announcing the passing of the new bill.

"Quiet!" Ron called out over the crowd as he stood up on a table in front of the TV. "Alright everyone, shut up for a moment!" The room quietened down as everyone turned their attention to Ron.

"I know everyone here is excited to begin the party and celebrate what we've just achieved here," Ron said loudly. "I myself don't plan on remembering much of tonight at all." There were a few extra cheers at this.

"But before we start I need to draw your attention to the man who made all of this possible," Ron called out as the volume began to rise again. "Harry, get up here."

Harry felt a small push in the back to get him moving as he made his way towards Ron, people crowding in around him, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand as he made his way blindly through the sea of bodies. Reaching the end of the room he was pulled up onto the table by Ron who addressed the crowd again.

"For the last month Harry has been arguing back and forth with the idiots we just saw on TV tonight to get this bill passed," Ron said to the crowd. "Tonight isn't just our triumph, it's his. Ladies and gentlemen, Harry Potter!" Ron shouted, taking Harry's hand and lifting it triumphantly into the air as the crowd went will again.

"Speech! Speech!" calls came from the crowd, the massed workers quieting down and watching Harry eagerly.

"Alright, everyone, thanks for the support," Harry said, his cheeks flushed. "I've worked really hard on this bill for so long now that to finally get this done is just a tremendous joy. But I would be wrong to take all the credit here. If I am the man who made this all possible then I think we ought to recognise the woman who made it possible for me to be the man who made this all possible, Cho Chang!"

The crowd cheered again as a blushing Cho was pushed to the front, from where Harry and Ron helped her up to the table.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ron called out, holding a hand of each of them. "I give you, victory!" he yelled out as he raised both their hands in the air to even more cheers from the crowd.

Harry grinned as he hugged Cho as Ron moved off to get the champaign. Jumping down from the table, and helping Cho after him, he was engulfed in a hug by Hermione, and then Neville as he became overwhelmed by the crowd again, so much so that he wasn't even aware Ron had popped open a bottle of champaign until he found it poured over his head to laughter all around.

Needless to say, there were more than a few hangovers the following morning.


	3. Merlin

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

Harry lay comfortably upon his bed, light streaming in through the window to warm his bare chest. He lay perfectly still, savouring the last few moments of rest before he had to get up and get himself ready for work.

There was movement on the mattress next to him as a small, feminine hand placed itself gently upon his toned stomach. Turning his head Harry smiled as Ginny came into view, dressed in nothing but a pair of pyjama shorts and his old Gryffindor Quidditch jumper.

"Morning," Ginny said softly, eyes glittering with happiness as she lay beside him.

"Morning," Harry replied, smiling back at her. Leaning forward he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, to which she reacted by matching his movements. Pulling closer, Ginny manoeuvred herself so she was lying on top of him, her body resting across his chest.

"Ginny," Harry gasped as he broke away for breath, tilting his head away from her hungry lips. "Ginny, wait." Ginny pulled back slightly, looking down at him questioningly. "I can't, I've got to get up," he told her plaintively, pulling back to dodge her advances. "Seriously, I've got to get ready for work."

"Don't worry," Ginny whispered in his ear. "This won't take long."

"Ginny," Harry admonished, twisting his head so she couldn't kiss him again. "Last time you said that we missed our reservation for dinner. You remember, the one with Bill and Fleur."

"So what if you're a little late," Ginny grinned at him, her hair forming a fiery curtain around his face.

"Ginny, I've got a meeting I've got to go to," Harry told her, his eyes pleading for her to understand as he felt his resistance start to crumble. "Please." With a sigh Ginny shifted off him, instead lying down next to him, her hand still placed possessively on his chest.

"Who are you meeting?" she asked, her disappointment obvious in her tone.

"A Councillor of Merlin's Order," Harry replied. "She's undoubtedly wanting to complain about something, she never speaks to us otherwise."

"What about when you're trying to get bills past the council?" Ginny asked, frowning.

"We don't bother talking to her," Harry replied with a shrug. "She votes against every bill we put through. She's undeniably the most prejudice woman I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

"So it wouldn't be a problem if you had to postpone your meeting, now would it?" Ginny asked, a mischievous glint in her eye as she moved towards him again.

"Already done that," Harry replied with a guilty laugh, raising a hand to gently stop his girlfriend. "She arranged to have this meeting two days ago, I'm afraid I can't put it off any longer, no matter how much I want to."

"Okay," Ginny sighed as she moved her hand off his chest. She flopped down onto her back and dangled an arm lazily across her stomach.

Harry pulled himself out of bed, his entire body protesting as he got up and moved towards the bathroom to get ready for work. Reaching the door, he looked back. "You know I would like nothing more than to stay with you right now," Harry said sincerely.

"I know," Ginny replied with a small smile from her position on the bed. "Me too."

Ginny watched as he smiled, before he entered the bathroom and disappeared out of sight. Hearing the sound of the shower turning on, Ginny glanced at the bathroom door, an idea forming in her head. With a mischievous grin and an abundance of newfound energy Ginny snuck up to the door and quietly slipped inside, locking the door silently behind her.

* * *

"Hey Harry, you're late," Cho informed him as he entered the Ministry building, smiling broadly as he went. "You were supposed to be in half an hour ago."

"I know," Harry replied, accepting some papers from a passing assistant. "But sometimes I find myself unavoidably detained."

"You don't seem to be particularly upset about it," Cho noted as she followed alongside him, the two of them rapidly approaching his office.

"I'm in a good mood today, Cho," Harry answered happily, smiling brightly at a few office workers as he passed. "The sun is shining, the birds are singing and absolutely nothing is going to spoil my day."

"May I ask what's brought on this new zest for life?" Cho asked.

Harry came to an abrupt stop, his office door only a couple of meters away. "Have you ever had a shower with your girlfriend?"

Cho raised an eyebrow. "I can't say that I have," she replied dryly. "The Councillor is in Meeting Room 3 and has been waiting for you for the last twenty minutes."

"She hasn't started complaining yet?" Harry asked, thumbing through the documents in his arms.

"Undoubtedly she has," Cho replied. "But there is no one in the room with her, so…"

Harry grinned. "Do me a favour, don't let her know I'm in yet," Harry told Cho. "I'll get round to her eventually."

"Yes, sir," Cho said, walking off to take a seat at her desk.

"I'm telling you, Cho," Harry called to her, reaching behind him for the handle of his office door. "Nothing is going to spoil my good mood today." Cho raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing as Harry turned and stepped inside. Upon entering his office he immediately stopped dead at the sight of who was waiting for him.

"Damn," he swore under his breath as he came face to face with Bill Weasley. "Any chance you didn't hear what I was saying out there?" Bill shook his head slowly, lips pressed tightly together. "Let's just forget that ever happened."

"Let's," Bill agreed, his face settling slightly from the stern expression he had worked it into.

"What can I do for you, Bill?" Harry asked, moving round his desk to sit behind it, dropping his papers on top of the pile that had already started to form there.

"I'd like to apologise for intruding on your office while you weren't in," Bill said, business like as always as he took his seat. "But I've got an important message for you from the Goblin Council of Gringotts."

"Don't worry, it's Cho's job to keep people out my office," Harry brushed it off. "I'll yell at her for that later. What do the goblins want?"

"My employers wish to discuss with the Ministry the opportunity to introduce a bill legalising goblin-human marriages," Bill said simply, waiting for Harry's response. He had to wait quite some time for it, too.

"First off, Bill," Harry said with a brief puff of laughter. "You are an ambassador to Gringotts bank, your employers are this Ministry." Harry paused again, trying to figure out how to phrase his next sentence. "Secondly," he said. "The goblins don't want goblin-human marriages, no one does. We get all sorts of petitions being delivered to us all the time and this has to be one of the most ridiculous I've ever heard."

"Is it so ridiculous to believe the goblins are trying to reach out and improve relations between our two races?" Bill questioned rhetorically. "Is it not sheer narrow-mindedness that completely discounts this is a valid cause?"

"First of all, yes, the goblins are notoriously bad for souring relationships with humans," Harry pointed out. "For the first time in centuries the two races are living side by side in somewhat harmony."

"The goblins have played their own part in that," Bill pointed out. "We can't sit here and say wizards should get all the credit for the current peace."

"I'm not saying that," Harry countered. "What I am saying is that the goblins would rather not have to deal with us. They'd rather live their own lives whilst letting us live ours. If it wasn't for Gringotts we'd probably never see them."

"So are you saying that goblins simply don't care about the humans at all?" Bill asked. "Do you not realise that the goblins do care, for purely economic reasons at the very least?"

"And where does marriage fall into the economic conversation?" Harry asked.

"In the part where the goblins are trying to finally make an effort," Bill retorted. "Harry, this message I've been entrusted with is the first time the goblins have ever asked for anything to improve wizard-goblin relations."

"Exactly," Harry pointed out. "This has never happened before. It's unprecedented. There is more behind this than what you have been informed of. Goblins don't want to marry humans, and humans don't want to marry goblins."

"Oh really?" Bill countered, placing a stack of parchment upon Harry's desk. "Rito Loosegob and Euphrasia Head, Kayles Rustwell and Griffin Pander, Bail Fizzleknob and Sushila Dragunov, Jazgiez Salttweak and Reena Yates. Each of these are human-goblin couples who wished to achieve marriage with one another but were prevented from doing so by our laws."

Harry breathed in a sigh as he looked down at the papers Bill had placed on his desk. "Rito Loosegob and Euphrasia Head," he said ponderously, digging deep into his memory banks. "A case from over two hundred years ago when travellers discovered them locked together in an abandoned tower, having been imprisoned there for over 50 years. When they asked for marriage, neither of them could be considered mentally stable after what they'd been through, as many healers at the time did attest to."

"Reena Yates was a young muggle woman who was placed under a weak imperious curse which eventually caused her to declare her undying love for Jazgiez Salttweak," Harry continued steadily. "Salttweak was a goblin who was later discovered to have never actually existed in the first place."

"Sushila Dragunov was an emotionally abused sex slave from Bulgaria, being held captive by Fizzleknob, a goblin who tried to avoid his own execution by claiming that the two of them were in love. He was caught out when local aurors conducted a raid on his home and discovered that it wasn't just humans he had been abusing."

Harry sighed as he looked down to the last pair of names on the list. "Griffin Pander was a mentally ill pureblood who slipped Rustwell a love potion. He was summarily beheaded by Rustwell's clan."

Harry looked up at Bill, who was sitting back looking rather shellshocked. "I can assume it was the goblins who supplied you with these documents?" Harry asked, passing the parchment back. "Get them to send a goblin down here to discuss with me what they really want."

Bill nodded silently, taking the documents back and slipping them into his briefcase as he left. Harry sighed and glanced at his watch, realising that eventually he would have to meet with the councillor he'd much rather avoid. Throwing his papers back onto his desk in annoyance Harry started to make his move.

Standing up and stretching wearily Harry wandered out of his office, nodding his head to indicate to Cho that he was going. He walked smartly to the door of Meeting Room 3, pausing only to take a deep calming breath before opening it and stepping inside.

"Councillor Umbridge, what a pleasure to see you again?" Harry said, a massive fake smile plastered on his face as he entered the room. "Please, have a seat."

Umbridge huffed as she sat down, having only just risen to scold him upon his arrival. "I have been waiting here for over an hour," she said indignantly, her annoyingly high-pitched voice not failing to grate on Harry's nerves. "I am a highly valued and important member of this government and I should not be treated in such a degrading manner. Why, I was not even offered refreshments upon my arrival."

"I apologise, Councillor," Harry said, barely keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. "There has been a lot going on today and we are running slightly behind schedule." He held himself back from commenting as Umbridge sniffed something that sounded suspiciously like 'typical'. "Let's not waste any more of your valuable time. You were here to talk about…?"

"Werewolves," Umbridge said promptly, sitting up straighter.

"Alright," Harry said uncertainly, taking his seat. "What is your issue?"

"I think you know very well my position," Umbridge said haughtily. "Werewolves are being allowed to walk around out in the open, leaving good, hard working citizens in danger. I want them to be properly restricted to ensure our nations children can walk safely in our streets."

"I assume you have the numbers to back up your claim," Harry replied, his voice losing much of its false cheery tone.

"Yes, I do," Umbridge said promptly, reaching under her hideous pink robes to pull out a folder of documents. "Hem hem," she cleared her throat. "In this past year Werewolves have accounted for 2% of the nations crime, a staggering number when you consider only 0.7% of the population are afflicted with this awful condition." She smacked the folder down on the table in front of her. "These beasts are wild and out of control and it is the duty of the Ministry to tighten the leash before they take further liberties and take over our world."

Harry sighed, pulling out documents of his own. "I'm afraid you're twisting the numbers to your advantage, Councillor Umbridge," Harry said with all the respect he could muster. "It is known that 0.98% of our population are Werewolves and the 2% you quoted is actually 1.79%, and it refers to the percentage of low level crime werewolves are responsible for, such as disturbing the peace, vandalism and ill-conceived bar fights."

"I do not see how these figures do anything to undermine my position," Umbridge argued. "Whatever the numbers really are they show that werewolves are more aggressive than normal citizens. And that is not even touching upon what happens every full moon; savage attacks, livestock slaughters, they are a danger and a threat to our very society."

Harry could feel his anger growing as he listened to Umbridge speak but, as he had learned to do in his career as a politician, he kept his emotions hidden behind a blank mask. "What I was about to say was that due to their inability to work during the full moon and the ever present prejudice that still exists in our world, werewolves make up a disproportionally large percentage of those working in the lowest wage bracket, as well as the unemployed, which we already know are risk factors for increased likelihood of being involved in low level crimes."

"In addition," Harry continued as Umbridge prepared to butt in. "We average just under two werewolf related incidents per full moon. Add on the fact that some of these attacks came as a result of non-infected people stumbling across a werewolf and attacking it in fear, we find that there are plenty of other creatures that cause more deaths a year than werewolves. For example, owls."

Umbridge was not happy as Harry finished speaking. "That is a silly comparison," she told him, her voice sweet but venomous. "Owl's are far greater in number and provide a wonderful service to the wizarding world. Werewolves do not."

"Only because we refuse to give them well paying jobs," Harry countered. "If we allow these people to get paid for an honest days work they will be able to become better educated and therefore less likely to be involved in criminal activities."

"You are acting as though werewolves think the way normal people do," Umbridge admonished him.

"That's because they do," Harry argued back. "Werewolves are just regular witches and wizards most of the time and with advancements being made in the Wolfsbane potion they are become more and more human like during the full moon as well."

"They are animals," Umbridge argued. "Half-breeds. If it were up to me I'd have the lot of them exterminated. Unfortunately this country is too cowardly to do that so I must make do with having them moved somewhere where I can keep an eye on them."

"This country is not going to bow down to your every whim," Harry said angrily, practically shaking with rage. "This Ministry represents the werewolves of this nation too and we will not allow you to speak this way about them. This meeting is over," Harry said viciously, picking up his parchment and storming over to the door.

"It's a shame about Councillor Wilson," Umbridge said to the back of his head as he reached the door, her voice regaining it's disgusting sugary quality. "It doesn't look like he's going to be able to attend any votes for at least a couple of months. It would be a shame if your trade bill didn't make it through just because of a case of adult dragon pox."

Harry turned around, the sight of her smug face repellent. "What's your deal?"

"It's quite simple really," Umbridge said, her voice sickly sweet. "I will vote for the trade bill, thereby ensuring it passes the council, in exchange for the Ministry proposing a bill to put a cap on werewolf rights. That, of course, would be another bill I would vote in favour of."

Harry stood still, staring at Umbridge in disbelief as she sat there looking like the cat that ate the canary. Without a word, Harry turned on his heels and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"Can we confirm the Wilson story?" the Minister asked, his senior staff assembled around him in his office.

"Councillor Wilson checked himself into a containment centre yesterday afternoon," Ron told him with a defeated sigh. "He will be available to vote in a couple of months, after he is no longer contagious. Of course, we don't have that time."

"We need 8 of the 15 votes," Harry said. "But with Wilson having to abstain we're left short."

"And Umbridge won't back down?" the Minister asked. "Have we tried negotiating with her?"

"She's a prejudiced…" Harry had to stop himself before he swore in front of the Minister. "She doesn't care about the trade bill either way. All she wants is to ensure any non-human is under wizarding rule."

"Werewolves are human," Neville pointed out.

"Not to her they're not," Harry responded smoothly. "I've had a look over a few of her papers. She hates 'half-breeds' with a passion."

"Have you tried to negotiate with her?" the Minister asked again, eyes piercing into Harry.

"No," Harry admitted. "I tried to convince her before she made her ultimatum. After… well, I was too infuriated to say anything."

"Well, in that case we have to work on the assumption that she's willing to negotiate," the Minister said promptly.

"She's not," Harry pointed out angrily.

"I know," the Minister said calmingly, beseeching Harry to quiet down. "I just don't want to be the one to put negotiation off the table until we're 100% sure it won't work. Neville, you meet with Umbridge, tell her Harry got a little bit too emotional due to his own personal concerns and that the Ministry still wishes to negotiate their position."

"Yes, sir, but wouldn't it be better for her to speak to Amos?" Neville asked. "She thinks of the rest of us as children."

"No, I think it'd be better if it was you," the Minister said thoughtfully. "I don't want Umbridge thinking we're going over Harry's head on this. Let's not encourage her to go even further than she already has. Alright everyone, go back to what you were doing," he said, shepherding them out of the room. "Harry, could you stay for a moment?"

The rest of the staff filed out of the room as Harry waited behind, trying not to look at the Minister. It was only when everyone else had left and the door had been closed that the Minister spoke.

"How's Remus?" he asked.

"He's fine," Harry answered, looking down at his feet. "It was a full moon a few nights ago so he's still recovering." The Minister nodded in acceptance.

"We're not going to restrict werewolf rights, Harry," he said firmly. "I know how strongly you feel about this, with good reason. I feel angry about this too."

"What has Remus done to deserve this?" Harry spat out, his rage getting the better of him. "Ever since the age of five he's had to walk around with people whispering behind his back about how he's dangerous and unstable and how he shouldn't be trusted. Even now he can't hold down a permanent job."

"I know Harry, it's awful," the Minister agreed. "Remus is a great man. He did invaluable work for us during the election campaign."

Harry looked up at that. "Why didn't you offer him a job?" he asked, his voice low but challenging.

"Why didn't you offer Remus a job?" Harry repeated louder when the Minister didn't answer. "You gave me a job, you gave Ron a job, you gave Amos, Neville, Hermione, Cho, Demelza, the guy who took the pictures jobs. What was it about Remus that told you he was unworthy? Was it because he was a werewolf?" There was silence as the two men stared at each other, Harry breathing heavily while the Minister stood stock still.

"Yes," the Minister responded softly, causing Harry to look back at him in shock. "Yes, that was why I didn't give Remus a job. In the Ministry you need to be able to work for every single day of every single week without fail. It may not be fair that I couldn't give Remus a job but it's an unfortunate reality. Sometimes life isn't fair."

The door opened as the Minister finished speaking, although neither man turned to see who it was.

"I'm sorry to disturb you sir, but I've got a message for Harry," Blaise said, standing respectfully by the door. Upon the Minister's nod, he continued. "Cho wanted to let you know that there is a goblin by the name of Griphook waiting for you in Meeting Room 4."

Harry nodded his head a fraction, showing he'd heard. "I've got to go," he said quietly, beginning to turn away. "You're wrong, though," he said as he went. "You're just plain wrong." Harry walked through the door, past a confused looking Blaise, and down the corridor towards Meeting Room 4. Reaching the door he took a breath to release his anger, then opened it.

"Master Griphook, I'm so glad you could meet with me," Harry said with a smile as he entered the room, shaking hands with the elder goblin and gesturing for him to take a seat.

"Likewise, Mr Potter," Griphook replied, sitting down on a chair that had, fortunately, already been enchanted to account for the goblins smaller stature.

Harry sat down opposite him. "We've met quite a few times, Master Griphook," Harry said, smiling at the goblin. "If you would like please feel free to call me Harry."

"In that case, Harry," Griphook replied. "You may call me Greekiriez."

"Do you mind if I just call you Griphook?" Harry asked, to which Griphook grinned, showing off a set of razor sharp teeth. "Griphook, I just wanted to ask, why did you send Bill Weasley down to see me today?"

Griphook laughed. "I knew not to expect you to believe the story," he said. "I was surprised William Weasley didn't ask more questions when I sent him to your office, although knowing his professionalism I really shouldn't have been."

"So the goblins don't want legalised human-goblin marriages," Harry cleared up, silently thanking god he'd been right. "Then why bring it up? I know you well enough to know you don't like wasting people's time, especially when they're at work."

"That's true," Griphook nodded in agreement. "In truth, I instructed Weasley to talk to you in order to get your attention. The issue that I wish to speak with you on is not one I want to be passed along by some messenger, nor is it one I want you to consider while you are being distracted with other issues."

"Then what is the issue?" Harry asked. "What could possibly have made you go through all this extra effort?"

"The Goblin Council would like it if the Ministry removed its security team from Gringotts," Griphook said seriously, no hint of a smile on his face.

"May I ask why?" Harry said, his fingers distractedly fiddling with his quill.

"I would think it is obvious," Griphook countered. "Gringotts is our establishment, much like the Ministry is yours. We do not feel comfortable having wizards being the ones entrusted with its safety, especially when there are many goblins who are only too willing to serve."

"Griphook, the security force we have in Gringotts is minimal at best," Harry pointed out. "You know this. If for any reason wizards decided to attack Gringotts you could have them ousted in a second. The guards, they're there to help the wizarding public feel more secure, to make them feel that the Ministry is working hard to protect their gold."

"That's the point," Griphook argued, leaning forward as he got to the crucial argument of the debate. "The human guards are merely a symbol for the wizarding public, a symbol that we goblins do not want. We want the wizarding world to trust us with their gold, especially considering how long we've successfully looked after it for them."

"So, this is not about goblins controlling Gringotts," Harry said slowly. "Are you suggesting we should simply trust you more?"

"Yes," Griphook answered simply, watching Harry carefully for his reaction. "I want the wizards to trust the goblins."

Harry looked back at Griphook in amazement, never having expected the goblin to have asked for such a deal. Griphook was simply asking for trust.

"You know we want to trust you," Harry said. "Last year we decreased our security to the current levels. Any further move would require some sort of concession on your part, some sort of guarantee that we can still work together and not split off into two completely separate factions of society."

"We are willing to grant concessions," Griphook informed him. "I wouldn't have come to you if I had nothing to reciprocate with."

"What concessions are you willing to offer?" Harry asked.

"Ambassadors," Griphook replied. "Official Ambassadors from Gringotts. For years the Ministry of Magic has had ambassadors inside Gringotts because they don't trust them, but now we will have Gringotts ambassadors, to communicate with the Ministry."

"So, you're saying you want our relationship to more closely mimic the relationship the Ministry currently has with foreign Ministries," Harry said slowly.

"To an extent," Griphook agreed. "I'd hope that our relationship would be closer than that of you and your foreign friends, but if that's how it must start then so be it."

"This is a big step," Harry mentioned. "For both our races."

"I can't speak for your people," Griphook spoke. "But we goblins of the Council want to share a bond of trust. We have learned the lessons of our bloody past and wish to instead make friends, rather than enemies."

"You haven't approached any of the other magical civilisations in Britain," Harry pointed out. "If you're serious about this you should be looking at not just us but the other intelligent magical races we have living in this country."

"We are aware," Griphook replied. "There has been much debate about holding preliminary meetings with the centaurs. We had just thought it would be best to start with the race who were most willing to meet us half way." Harry watched Griphook speak with some amazement, surprised to hear the aged goblin talk so passionately about something he'd never have even thought the goblins would have wanted.

"I can't promise a completely positive reaction from the wizarding public," Harry warned. "There are still many who don't trust goblins, and some who may even take all their money out of Gringotts if we go through with this. Are you prepared to deal with the possible backlash from our side?"

"Yes," Griphook said with a smile. "I may not have much faith in the huddled masses, but they did elect this ministry and I do have faith in that. Harry, I first visited the Ministry of Magic nearly 50 years ago, as an advisor to one of the council elders."

"We were treated terribly, like second class citizens, with people constantly whispering behind our backs, looking at us with either fear or hatred," Griphook snarled slightly as he spoke. "Today when I arrived at the Ministry I was shown to this room without a single word from any passers by. The wizards in this building find it normal to see me here, and never once looked down on me. Things have come a long way since my first visit, and I am ready for the next step."

Harry smiled. "So am I," he replied, a sense of success in the air. "Thank you, for helping me see it."

Griphook smiled back. "Thank you, for letting me show you it."

Harry stood up, Griphook doing the same. "I'll make sure to arrange further meetings to look at this in more depth," Harry said. "I'll get a few of the other senior staff together and we'll discuss the possibilities with you and whoever else you would like to join you."

"That sounds like a good idea," Griphook replied, walking through the meeting room door as Harry held it open for him. "I do believe Ambassador Weasley will be very busy over the next few weeks."

Harry's laughter was drowned out by an unearthly screech.

"Goblin scum, in the Ministry of Magic!" Umbridge screamed, looking simply deranged as she pointed an accusatory finger at Griphook. "How dare you defile this institution with your presence!"

"Madame Umbridge!" Harry bellowed, his voice rising above hers and silencing her at once. "How dare you speak like that. Master Griphook is a guest of the Ministry of Magic and is to be treated with respect. You may hold different views than us and you have, of course, the right to air your views, but in the Ministry you show nothing but respect and humility in the face of our guests."

Umbridge looked as though she was about explode, her face getting redder and redder as she stared at them. Eventually, still glaring hatefully at the pair of them, Umbridge strode away, moving as fast as her stumpy legs could carry her. At her exit the various people in the corridor started to move again, quickly getting over the excitement of the moment and returning to their jobs.

"I'm so sorry, Griphook," Harry said apologetically, turning back to the goblin, who's expression had gone sour. "She was completely out of line."

"It's okay, Harry," Griphook assured him gently, raising a hand to calm him. "I understand. There are goblins who still have an undeniable hatred of humans. I know these people exist."

"I also know," he continued. "That most people do not think like this. I may not be a seer, but I believe what we do over the next few weeks will ensure that one day no one will hold these prejudices. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Harry," Griphook said, holding out his hand.

"You too, Griphook," Harry replied, shaking it. "Would you like me to get someone to accompany you out or are you okay on your own?"

"I'll be fine, thanks," Griphook said with a smile. "Don't let me waste any of your colleagues valuable time. Goodbye, Harry."

"See you soon," Harry replied as Griphook walked away. Smiling, Harry made his way back towards the Minister's office, guessing that would be the location of most of the senior staff. As he had suspected the office was packed.

"I've just finished speaking to Umbridge," Neville informed Harry as he entered the room.

"I know," Harry replied. "I bumped into her in the hall after my meeting with Griphook."

The Minister groaned. "Griphook wasn't still there, was he?" Harry nodded.

"Don't worry, I've smoothed it over," Harry explained. "And I've got some good news, the goblins want to work with us."

"Really?" the Minister asked in surprise. "What sort of things were they talking about?"

"Gringotts ambassadors," Harry replied. "The basic idea is we remove the last of our security in Gringotts and instead work with them through various human and goblin ambassadors. We're still very much in the preliminary stages but the signs are looking good."

"Great work, Harry," the Minister congratulated. "You keep on that, this could be something huge for us if we can get it through. Neville, how did your meeting go?"

"Not good, I'm afraid," Neville said sadly. "Harry was right, Umbridge isn't going to budge at all."

"Did you try and bluff her?" the Minister asked.

"I did," Neville replied. "I said we'd start plans for drafting a werewolf restriction bill, she said she wouldn't vote on the trade bill until we submitted the werewolf one to the Wizengamot."

"Then we've got a real problem," the Minister said heavily. "Has it really come down to this, choosing between our own trade bill and werewolf rights? Are we really going to have to give up on a months work just because of one woman?"

"I've got an idea," Ron said thoughtfully. "It's kind of out there but bare with me. How about we do submit a werewolf restriction bill?"

"What?!" Harry replied, unable to believe what Ron was saying.

"Here me out, Harry," Ron said, trying to calm him down. "What if we submit the bill and then just ensure the bill gets defeated in the Wizengamot?"

"You mean ask everyone to vote against it rather than for it?" Neville asked, to which Ron nodded emphatically.

"That's awfully risky," Amos said. "Werewolves are not the most popular sect of our society, we may not be able to prevent the bill passing."

"The Ministry has no power to stop bills once they've been submitted to the Wizengamot," Hermione added. "After submitting the bill we will essentially be powerless, held hostage to our own legislation."

"Then we make it as unappealing as possible," Ron argued. "Add things in that will restrict other people's lives as well. Make the bill so unappealing that even the most ardent werewolf hater wouldn't vote for it."

"The plan has merit," Amos said. "It would make us look bad to the public though."

"That's true," Neville said, agreeing to Amos' point. "And there is no guarantee that Umbridge won't just go back on her deal, there is nothing we can do to force her to vote."

"Neville and Amos do bring up some valid points," Hermione agreed. "But I'm with Ron on this one, right now it's the best we've got."

"I agree," the Minister said heavily. "Let's start drafting up a bill."

"Minister, wait," Harry said suddenly, a plan still half worked through in his head.

"You've got an idea?" the Minister asked, the whole room watching Harry intently as his mind whirred.

"Yes, I do, and it's a much more permanent solution, if it works," Harry replied. "What if we simply appoint more Councillors?"

"Or kill Umbridge?" Ron responded sarcastically. "We can't just appoint more Councillors. If we could then every administration before ours would have done it already."

"How do you think Umbridge got her seat?" Harry challenged, silencing Ron as he thought about it.

"So we can do it?" Neville asked. "Hermione, can we do it?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Well, yes, we can," she said. "The Council of Merlin's Order originally contained only five members; Merlin and the four founders of Hogwarts. The idea was to give the best and brightest people in our world the final say on our laws, in a role that provides them with political immunity so they can vote on what they think is right. Over the years more members have been added when it has been thought appropriate until they reached the point we are at today, with 15 members."

Hermione paused for breath. "The last members to be added were by Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, who introduced six new members, including Lucius Malfoy, Theodore Nott Sr. and…"

"Delores Umbridge," Harry and Ron said together.

"Right," Hermione agreed.

"You think we can add a few new members to get enough votes in the council," the Minister summed up.

"Yes," Harry said. "Back when Fudge introduced Umbridge to the council he did so without approval to the Wizengamot. If we introduce six new names and let the Wizengamot vote on them we'll be able to limit the power these people have over us. In fact, to pass the trade bill all we'd need is for four of our six nominations to vote for it."

"It sounds like a good idea," the Minister agreed. "If it works."

"We'd have to make sure that our nominations are good people," Amos said. "We can't do this purely for political gain, this is a lifetime post, we need to pick people who aren't simply going to say yes when we tell them to. We need to get people of the ilk of Merlin and the founders and not of Malfoy and Umbridge."

"If we try this and fail we won't be able to save the trade bill," the Minister warned Harry.

"We won't fail," Harry assured him. "This will work."

The Minister smiled. "Alright you lot, take a seat," he said, walking round his desk and settling into his favourite armchair. "We've got some work to do."

* * *

The meeting was taking place in Meeting Room 1, the biggest and most magnificent of the Ministry meeting rooms. On one side of the table sat Harry, Ron and Hermione, the two guys sitting on either side, flanking Hermione who had a neat stack of parchment in front of her, with various files spread across in front of Harry and Ron.

On the other side of the table sat Alea Reed, David Woods, Ash Tyler and David Spence, four Warlocks from the Wizengamot who, between them, represented the major viewpoints within the legislative body.

"This is unprecedented," Woods said carefully, fingers steepled on the desk before him. "No ministry has ever done this before."

"That's not true," Hermione contradicted him. "In 1992 Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge appointed six new Councillors, without approval from the Wizengamot."

"We wouldn't do that," Ron was quick to point out. "These days the Wizengamot has much more authority, as it should, and that is why we are going to be suggesting our nominations to the Wizengamot for you to vote on. We would just like your input on who you think are suitable candidates."

"I assume you guys have already drawn up a list," Tyler said gruffly, clearly still ruffled by the last time he and Harry had spoken. "This won't be a free for all."

"That's right," Ron nodded. "We have spent considerable time with the Minister, along with Chief of Staff Amos Diggory and Deputy Chief of Staff Neville Longbottom, in drawing up a list of candidates we believe would be fair and for the good of the council as a whole for the many years these people would undoubtedly serve."

"Perhaps we should stop talking about this in abstract and instead move on to the actual suggestions you've drawn up," Reed suggested. "That would give us a better idea of what you are hoping to achieve."

Harry and Ron nodded and indicated for Hermione to start. "First name on our list is Katie Bell," Hermione said, as Harry and Ron passed around basic profiles to the four warlocks. "She attended Hogwarts for the full seven years, achieving exceptional grades in both OWL and NEWT examinations. She has spent her time since then as a civil rights lawyer, working mainly on cases of dispute between various magical creatures and wizards."

"She seems like a decent candidate," Reed nodded approvingly. "Reports describe her as professionally impartial and the grades speak for themselves."

"I've got to agree," Woods added. "It would be hard for anyone in the Wizengamot to find any reasonable fault with her." Tyler nodded along.

"She's muggleborn," Spence spoke up, his first words since he'd sat down.

"That's a problem?" Hermione asked, her fingers tapping agitatedly on the parchment before her.

"Not to me," Spence explained. "But to certain members of the Wizengamot, yes. It doesn't help that she is a woman as well."

"Purebloods have a problem with women?" Harry questioned. "The Wizengamot is filled with women, I find it hard to imagine that many of the Warlocks are against this."

"Most aren't," Spence agreed. "But purebloods tend to be more old fashioned in their ideals, more traditional. For certain purebloods that means that women should stay at home and raise the children."

"How many do you think would be against this nomination?" Harry asked, directing his question to all four Warlocks.

"I could rattle off a few names simply upon the fact she is a muggleborn girl," Spence took the duty of answering him. "And I imagine a few more might join them after looking over her record. But if everyone else likes her, which they will, she will pass." He placed her file down on the table, signifying the end of the discussion.

"Alright, well now that we're on the subject how about we move on to the other muggleborn on our list," Harry said, passing out more profiles. "Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"He won't pass," Spence said immediately, not even bothering to open the file. "He's practically a muggleborn rights activist, no pureblood will want him on the council."

"I'm afraid I have to agree," Reed pointed out. "Many of my people would likely vote for him but I couldn't. He's not the person you hire for this job."

"That's right," Woods said, acknowledging Reed's point. "On the Council we need people with open minds. We need statesmen. We can't have someone who has such strong opinions on such a divisive issue on the Council of Merlin's Order."

"We were afraid that may be the case," said Hermione, neatly scoring through Finch-Fletchley on the parchment before her. "We had some reserve options, if you'd like to hear them." Hermione waited for their nods of acceptance. "Terry Boot."

"Terry is a bit of an interesting one," Harry said as he handed out details. "Again he is highly qualified from his time at Hogwarts and has excelled since then, just not in politics."

"A private tutor in history," Tyler said with a raised eyebrow. "That will certainly interest people."

"We've discussed this for quite some time," Ron admitted. "Our conclusion is that the Council of Merlin's Order was designed to be constituted from the wizards and witches who made up the smartest and most knowledgable people in the country."

"Terry Boot is one of our countries leading experts in our history, as well as our laws," Harry pointed out. "And perhaps he's exactly what we need, a teacher rather than a politician."

"Perhaps you're right," Reed replied, reading through his profile. "I'm sure my people will be willing to vote for him, as long as they don't find out he's in to replace Finch-Fletchley at any rate."

"My people, too, would support him," Woods added. "As you know many of my supporters are academics themselves, I'm sure they would find this a refreshing appointment."

"The history he teaches appears to be very well balanced," commented Tyler. "He has refrained from ever giving a personal opinion, which might be something for you to check on yourselves. On the other hand, I can't see anyone really having a problem with him."

There was a brief pause as everyone turned to watch the last warlock in the room. "He's muggleborn," he noted predictably. "That automatically gives us problems. On the other hand, his lack of political activity may swing over a few pureblood votes. I'd say he'd be more popular than your last couple of suggestions."

"Great," Harry smiled. "We'll add Terry Boot to the list."

Hermione had already started scribbling by the time Harry had spoken, quickly scrawling down the change before moving on. "Shall I go on to the next suggestion?" at their nods Hermione cleared her throat and went down to the next name. "Tracey Davis."

There was a brief pause as the four Warlocks read their data files, chewing their lips thoughtfully as they read.

"She's the niece of Edward Davis," Woods pointed out. "Warlock Davis, that's going to account for an awful lot of the voting."

"Is that going to be a problem?" Hermione asked. "We were under the impression that Warlock Davis doesn't have particularly many enemies inside the Wizengamot."

"You won't get McCain and his gang," Tyler told them. "But he's popular among the purebloods, isn't that right David?"

Spence nodded. "Edward is seen almost as an honorary pureblood," he explained. "The Davis line is pureblood up until himself, and his wife is a half blood relation of the Black family, one of the more sane parts of the family as well."

"Warlock Reed, you know McCain quite well," Ron said. "Do you think there is any chance of bringing him round?"

Reed shook her head. "He hates Edward," she said. "He won't vote for Tracey. On the other hand she does seem to have a pretty perfect record," she commented, looking through the sheets of parchment. "I think I could keep him from rallying his supporters against her."

"Tracey Davis seems like a very moderate call," Woods nodded. "I'd say that Edward is the only stumbling block really. I'd assume he'd also have to abstain from voting." He closed the file. "Who's next?"

"Susan Bones," Ron replied.

"Done," Woods said with a smile. "After everything Amelia Bones has done for this country, Susan Bones won't have any trouble passing."

"It's been said that she's grown a lot into the mould of her aunt," Reed agreed. "I can't imagine anyone being able to fight that."

"So we're all agreed," Ron said with a grin. "Excellent, moving on, Kevin Entwhistle."

"The writer?" Woods asked in surprise. "Doesn't he write children stories?"

"In his free time," Ron pointed out. "For a living he is actually a lawyer, very well respected both here and abroad."

"Why does that matter?" Spence asked suddenly, his head perking up from his perusal of Entwhistle's file. "Why do we care about his reputation abroad?"

"Because we no longer live in an age where we can ignore other countries," Harry pointed out. "We need to have someone who will be able to see everything from an outside perspective as well. So far our Council stinks on foreign issues, nothing ever gets passed because no one knows what to do. With Entwhistle we can add that expertise to the council."

"That… surprisingly makes sense," Tyler said, turning back to the profile. "It's not something anyone has really been too aware of but now that I think about it…"

"If I brought this up I could get you votes on him," Woods said. "My people just want the best expertise on the Council, they'll agree to this."

"Likewise for me," Reed added. "You know my people are very big on foreign policy. I tell them your argument and they'll bite."

"The purebloods might not take him entirely seriously," Spence warned. "They are no doubt aware of his hobby. Be that as it may he still has a widely respected name, so I am sure there will be at least a split in the votes."

"Alright then," Harry said, passing out more profiles. "The last nomination we would like to make is Draco Malfoy."

There was silence as finished speaking, the four Warlocks staring at him with varying degrees of surprise and shock. Slowly Tyler picked up his profile and opened it, still glancing away from the page every so often to look at Harry.

"That's," Woods said hesitantly, licking his lips. "A bold nomination," he finished, turning over the first page of his profile so he could see the picture of Malfoy looking up at him.

"I don't need to see the profile," Spence said, pushing it back. "I can already tell you it will receive the entirety of the pureblood vote."

"Neither do I," Reed said shortly, shoving her profile back forcefully. "My people will not vote for him, and nor will I."

"We understand your views differ," Harry said calmly. "And we know not to expect too many of your votes."

"You should expect none of our votes," Reed cut in angrily.

"But you should at least hear me out," Harry continued as though she had not spoken. "Yes, Malfoy believes in pureblood supremacy and yes, he would vote to restrict muggleborn rights. On the other hand we have found him to be fair in what he does."

"Draco Malfoy is a lawyer," Hermione stated. "Mainly dealing with workplace issues such as unfair pay, sexual harassment and unlawful firing. He has a surprising number of convictions against purebloods to his name, even in situations where it's not a clear open and shut case. He may believe in pureblood supremacy but he is fair and has integrity, and that's what we need in our Councillors."

"We're going to start putting forward our nominations for councillors over the next few days," Ron told them, his tone suggesting they were about to wrap up the meeting. "If you have anything you would like to say, please say it now."

Alea Reed was the first to stand. "I'll get you your votes, but I can't vote for Malfoy," she said shortly. "I will, however, pass along your message and let the other Warlocks decide for themselves." She turned and walked out of the room, blonde hair trailing behind her as she left the three male Warlocks behind.

"This has certainly been an interesting meeting," David Woods said as he laboriously climbed to his feet. "I'd just like to finish by saying that I do not think my people will have any problems with any of your nominations, even Mr Malfoy. We value intelligence, and that's what your nominations have shown."

"I'm with Warlock Woods on this," said Ash Tyler, standing up and swishing his cloak over his shoulders. "We won't be universal on Malfoy, but I think you may still get enough votes with the purebloods behind you." He strode out, leading Woods along behind him as he went.

David Spence took a moment before he started to stand up, pushing his chair back to accommodate for his fair belly. "I think I've made my views very clear today," he said as he pulled on his cloak, buttoning it up to try and conceal his girth. "I'd just like to ask, is that really why you nominated Malfoy?"

Harry nodded. "We're not trying to con you or anything with this," he assured him. "We just value the qualities Malfoy has, we're just sorry he doesn't agree with us on everything."

Spence chuckled. "I never would have guessed you guys would make such an unusual nomination," he said. "Good day to you, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger." He nodded respectfully to each of them before exiting the room.

"Well, I think that went well," Ron said loudly to break the silence, causing Harry to laugh and Hermione to sigh.

"Me too," Harry agreed. "I just hope Reed won't take this too bad."

"If she does she's being unreasonable," Hermione said. "Draco Malfoy is as much a pureblood rights activist as Katie Bell is a muggleborn rights activist."

"Whatever, I'm just glad I'm not Neville tonight," Ron said. "She'll be in one hell of a mood."

"I'm going to see how the Gringotts talks are coming along," Harry told them as they exited the meeting room. "I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, see you later," Ron and Hermione waved goodbye as they headed off down the corridor, leaving Harry to travel in the opposite direction. He'd taken only a few steps before he came across a familiar face.

"Remus."

"Hey, Harry," Remus smiled at him as he approached, Harry pulling the elder man into a hug. "It's good to see you."

"You too," Harry replied, smiling back. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, the Minister called and asked me to come in and see him today," Remus told him. "It'll be good to see him again, we haven't had a chance to talk in well over a year now."

"Well, he is a very busy man," Harry reasoned. "Hey, Remus, after you've finished with your meeting you have to come by my office."

"Will do, Harry," Remus smiled as Harry walked on, reaching a door further down the corridor and entering the room beyond. Knowing not to keep the Minister waiting, Remus set off again, making it to the Minister's outer office quickly.

"Hi Daphne," Remus smiled as he approached the assistant, who positively beamed back at him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm great, thank you Remus," Daphne smiled. "How are you? No, wait, hang on, we'll have time for that later. You're here to see the Minister, aren't you?"

"Yes I am," Remus nodded.

"Just go right in," Daphne said, gesturing to the closed office door.

"Just… go right in," Remus said nervously, eyeing the door to the most powerful office in the country.

"Relax, Remus," Daphne giggled. "He's in there on his own, just open the door."

Remus smiled slightly at his own reluctance before walking up to the door, opening it slowly while simultaneously knocking to announce his presence, trying to block out Daphne's giggles from behind him.

"Remus," the Minister called as he saw who was at the door, beckoning him in as he walked around the desk to reach him. "Good to see you, how are you?"

"I'm good, thanks for asking, Arthur, I mean, Minister," Remus said, slightly flustered. "Sorry about that, I should know better than to call you anything but the Minister in this office."

"Relax, Remus," the Minister chuckled. "You're not just some random guy I have to do business with, you're my friend. Now come, sit with me and talk like we used to in the good old days."

"Are we going to be having fire-whiskey, like in the good old days?" Remus joked. The Minister laughed.

"No, unfortunately I've made it a rule never to get drunk while I'm at the Ministry," the Minister said with a chuckle. "Also unfortunate is how I never seem to actually leave the Ministry these days."

"Ah, the curse of responsibility," Remus said lightly. "At least you've got some very able people working for you."

"I do indeed," the Minister acknowledged. "Sometimes I'll be sitting in my office and I'll think that everyone else seems to be working so much harder than I am. I'll be signing some letters or some such and then Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, they'll walk into the room and make things all the more interesting."

The Minister sighed. "But enough about me, how are you doing? Still teaching?"

"On a part-time basis," Remus confirmed. "I'm registered as a part-time educator in both the muggle and magical worlds, so I have enough work to get by." The door to the Minister's office opened and Remus turned to see who it was.

"Ah, Blaise, what do you have for me?" the Minister called.

"A message from Amos saying that the meeting with the goblins has broken up for the day and they plan to meet again at the same time tomorrow," Blaise replied. "Amos says he'll go through everything that's been said later."

"Thanks Blaise," the Minister said. "Hey, do you know Remus?"

"I don't believe I do," Blaise said. "It's a pleasure to meet you Remus." Remus was about to say the same back when he was quickly cut off.

"Yes, Remus is going to be the new Head of the Muggle Liaison Office," the Minister said, to Remus' shock. "That is, of course, if he accepts." He looked at Remus deliberately, waiting patiently for an answer.

"Minister, I think you're really putting me on the spot here," Remus gasped. "This is so sudden, I need time to think about it."

"What is there to think about?" The Minister asked, spreading his arms grandly. "It seems pretty straightforward to me. I should have asked you when I first took up office, but I was too worried about the time you'd miss around the full moon." Behind Remus' back Blaise's eyebrow raised in surprise.

"And why is that not an issue now?" Remus asked. "I understand why I can't work for the Ministry, I've accepted that."

"Bullshit," the Minister waved off, causing Blaise's other eyebrow to raise. "You've always settled for less when it comes to your personal life, Remus," he told him. "You can do this job better than anyone. And if you are worried about the full moon then you should know that the Deputy Head is more than capable of running the department while you're away."

"But, Arthur," Remus said. "What will the public say? People will not like that you've hired a werewolf."

"Maybe they won't," the Minister shrugged. "On the other hand we've come a long way since the day you were bitten. Today I had Delores Umbridge trying to bully the Ministry into introducing werewolf restrictions and instead we decided to hire more councillors. Amos is just about to come and tell me about the progress we are making with the goblins on building trust between our nation and theirs."

"100 years ago it would be ridiculous to even consider that a woman could be head of a department, 50 year ago people said it would be wrong to have a muggleborn as head of department. Now, some people may think we shouldn't have a werewolf as head of department, but I am not one of those people."

"So, Remus," the Minister said, standing up. "Will you accept this offer to serve your country? Will you come join us in our fight for justice? Will you help me do this job?"

Remus stood up too, an amazing feeling of pride in his chest. "I will," he said, loudly and firmly.

"Good," the Minister said confidently. "Blaise, could you bring in the necessary paper work we need to sign, and please inform Miss Patil that she will soon be visited by her new boss."

"Yes, sir," Blaise said, leaving the room as the Minister walked back to his desk.

"It is such a relief to have you with us again, Remus," the Minister said with a smile. "We are going to have so much fun."

* * *

"Good evening, thank you for sticking around," Hermione said as she reached the podium in the press room, papers stacked up in her arms. "There's actually a lot going on so you guys who stuck around this late are going to get a nice little scoop for tomorrow's front pages." Hermione cleared her throat

"First off, I would like to announce that the Ministry will be putting forward nominations to the Wizengamot for six, I repeat, six new members of the Council of Merlin's Order. The nominations are as follows: Katie Bell, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Tracey Davis, Kevin Entwhistle and Draco Malfoy. Each of the nominations have been spoken to by members of the Ministry senior staff and have agreed to take up the role should they be approved by the Wizengamot."

"Hermione, is there any reason to believe that your nominations won't be approved by the Wizengamot?" Michael asked before she could move on.

"When we sat down to decide who to put up for nomination we had certain basic qualities our applicants had to fill," Hermione began. "They needed a wide ranging knowledge of existing laws and wizarding society, they needed to have a spotless criminal record." Hermione paused for effect. "And they needed to be fair. Each of our nominations were picked not because they agree with any of our policies or ideals, they were picked in the knowledge that they would do what they, in their very learned opinion, thought was best for this country."

"Hermione, is there not a problem with having two Malfoy's on the Council when Draco stands to inherit Lucius Malfoy's seat?" Sophie asked.

"I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that there are no hereditary seats on the council," Hermione answered. "Upon the resignation or death of a council member there have been many different ways used to select their successors. Promoting their heir to the post is simply an easy answer to that and is not currently a law in our country. When the time comes for new Councillors to be appointed we hope we will have set a precedent for Wizengamot voted representatives."

"I know there are doubtless going to be many questions but I'd like to move on as it is getting rather late and there is still much to announce," Hermione said, voice rising above the questions.

"Now, Senior Staffers Amos Diggory, Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter have begun preliminary meetings with representatives of the Goblin Council of Gringotts," Hermione said, reading her notes. "As I understand it the current idea at this point is that the Ministry withdraw their own security forces in Gringotts and instead work together with the goblins on the formation of a brand new finance council."

"This council will include both human and goblin representatives and will work in tandem both with the Ministry and with the Goblin Council," Hermione paused for breath. "Of course it will take some time before this can be set up as there are many administrative details that must first be clarified."

"Hermione, is there any information about what this council will be responsible for?" Donald asked.

"I'm sorry, Donald, but everything that has been agreed I have already told you," Hermione responded.

"So this is still in the very early stages?" Donald followed up.

"Yes, the _very_ early stages. Talks only began today," Hermione responded. "Sophie?"

"Is there any worry that perhaps the goblins are angling to bypass the authority of the Ministry?" Sophie asked.

"This morning it was the goblins who came to us," Hermione announced. "Wizards and goblins have fought each other for centuries, and for the first time both sides have realised we must change that. This finance council is a move to allow wizards and goblins to work together in a way that has never before been achieved, or even attempted. We must have trust for this to work."

There was a brief lull in the press room as Hermione looked back down at her notes. "Okay, I've got one more announcement before I'll open the floor to questions on all three items of business."

"Today the Ministry would like to announce the appointment of Remus Lupin as Head of the Muggle Liaison Office after the previous head tragically passed away last week."

"Hermione," Michael spoke. "Not to be prejudiced here, but Mr Lupin is a werewolf, what are the Minister's plans for when he has to take time off every month?"

"The idea is that during the full moon the Deputy Head of the Muggle Liaison Office will take up his position," Hermione answered. "Mr Lupin will get one and a half days off before and after the full moon every month. The Minister was willing to give him more but Mr Lupin claimed that it was more than enough time for him to recover."

"Hermione, putting asides the worries about Mr Lupin being a werewolf," Sophie said. "Why didn't the Minister give him a job when he was elected, like he did for you? After all, Mr Lupin was an important part of the Minister's campaign team."

"I can answer that by saying the Minister was worried about the exact same issue Michael just brought up," Hermione answered. "It has been a regret of the Minister's for passing over Mr Lupin and when this job became available and due to Mr Lupin's extensive time within the muggle education system it seemed like a perfect fit."

"I'm aware you have more questions but I think it's time to wrap it up for the day," Hermione said as she picked up her files. "I will go over these points again in the morning so if you've got any more questions feel free to ask them then. In the meantime, have a good night."

"See, I told you they would be fine with it," Harry said as he turned the TV off.

"Fine with it," Remus scoffed, taking another sip of fire-whiskey. "Were you and I watching the same press conference?"

"Come on," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "One question on your timetable, that's all. If that was a show of public distaste then they positively hate me."

"Maybe they do," Remus suggested.

"Hey," Harry complained, raising his arms defensively.

Remus chuckled. "Don't worry, Harry," he said. "Latest opinion poll ratings show you to be one of the most popular figures in the Ministry. Ron on the other hand…"

"What's their problem with Ron?" Harry asked, taking another sip of fire-whiskey.

"It's split," Remus said. "Between the fact he's the Minister's son and the fact that he is so awkwardly tall."

Harry snorted. "They really said that?" he chortled.

"Tall, gangly, awkward, they've used all these words," Remus said. "Whereas one of the most popular words used to describe you has been stud, ever since people found out you were going out with Ginny apparently."

Harry shrugged. "There's worse things to be known for," he said disinterestedly. "Hey, have you seen your office yet?"

Remus shook his head. "No, I'm going down there tomorrow to meet Parvati Patil. Apparently she's very keen to start working with me." Harry laughed again, the sound accompanied by a knock on his door.

"Potter." Harry sobered up slightly at the sound.

"Malfoy," he replied, standing up to face the man before him. "Please, come inside." There was a tense silence as Draco walked into the room, staring at Harry who stared right back. Remus found himself caught in the middle.

"I'll go see what Ron's doing," he offered awkwardly, slipping out of the office and heading next-door to Ron's. After he left there was a still silence, until Harry spoke.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I came to ask why you nominated me?" Draco replied immediately, refusing to beat around the bush.

"I believe Neville told you why we nominated you," Harry responded, already knowing that he'd been caught but putting up a vague effort.

"He told me some fairytale line about fairness," Draco said scornfully. "But I know it wasn't him that picked me, it was you."

Harry sighed. "Caught in the act," he muttered, sitting back down in his seat heavily.

"Why?" Draco said vehemently, taking a step closer. "Why do this, are you trying to curry favour or something? I can tell you now that neither me nor my father are going to be doing you any favours because of this."

"I'm not doing this for favours, Malfoy," Harry said tiredly.

"Then why?" Malfoy demanded, hands on the edge of Harry's desk as he stared down at him.

"You want to know why?" Harry asked. "Take a seat." For a second it looked as though Draco was going to refuse, before he seemed to relax somewhat and slipped graciously into Remus's recently vacated chair.

"Tell me why," Draco demanded quietly. "Tell me why you of all people decided to give me such an important position."

"Because I knew you'd be good at it," Harry answered tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "I've fought you Malfoy, on so many issues in so many places," he said. "Muggleborn rights, pureblood tax cuts, Liverpool, Manchester, Glasgow. I know you very well now, and that is why I trust you with this job."

"So this is really you," Draco said. "Being sappy." Harry laughed at that, slumping slightly in his seat. "I thought I had you all worked out too, Potter, but I guess there is still more to learn."

"That's the wonderful thing about us," Harry said. "People. We change, all the time. I'm not going to sit here and say we're going to be best friends because that is simply a lie, but I think we can both move past the arrogance and ignorance of our youth to work together for our future."

Harry smiled slightly. "Maybe I should write all my speeches drunk," he chuckled to himself as he glanced into the bottom of his glass.

"Couldn't be worse than what you usually come out with," Draco replied. Harry chuckled again at that.

"It was good to see you, Draco," he said, standing up and extending his hand. Draco matched his movements, grasping his hand firmly for a moment longer than he had to.

"It was good to see you too, Harry," he said, before turning and walking away.

"Don't be a stranger," Harry called after him. Draco just kept walking, doing nothing to acknowledge his words. As Draco disappeared around the corner Harry chuckled to himself, before pouring himself another glass of fire-whiskey and settling back behind his desk.


	4. Creevey

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Morning Harry," Ron said jauntily as he strode into Harry's office, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What a fantastic day it is, don't you agree?"

Harry stared up at him from behind his desk, an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"I'm just saying," Ron continued, swinging his arms casually through the air. "I just feel that today is going to be a really good day. The sun is shining, the birds are singing…"

"Magical maintenance have fixed your window?" Harry caught on.

"No, why?" Ron asked, confused.

"Wait, so that isn't what's got you all excited?" Harry asked, leaning back in his chair as he looked inquisitively up at him. "Seriously Ron, what's up? You're acting as though you've been force fed a bottle of Elixir of Euphoria."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry," Ron denied, still with the same inane smile on his face. "I'm just feeling very positive about this day. Hermione," he cried happily as she stepped into the office, causing her to jump in surprise. "How are you?"

"I'm, uh, fine, Ron," Hermione replied, looking rather bewildered by Ron's mood. "Are you okay?"

"Never been better," Ron said happily while Harry subtly shook his head behind his back.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted him, placing a report on the little free space left on his desk. "How are you today?"

"I'm good, Hermione," Harry replied, picking up the report and quickly scanning over the first page. "You doing alright? I heard about Tony."

Hermione sighed. "Well, it was only a matter of time," she said dispiritedly. "I've got used to it. It's just sad to think that my personal life has been so completely destroyed by my professional life."

"Hey, stop worrying about it," Ron said, pulling Hermione into a surprise hug. "Tony was a no good loser."

"He was your friend," Hermione pointed out as Ron let her go. "That's how I met him."

"I know," Ron nodded in agreement. "That's how I knew he was no good. I just didn't say anything because Harry told me not to."

Harry held his hands up in surrender as they both turned to look at him. "Hey, I thought you were just being overprotective," he said defensively. "It's not my fault you were right."

"It does happen sometimes," Ron pointed out, causing Hermione to roll her eyes at their banter. "Oh, look, Colin just got in. I'm just gonna go say hi, see you in a second." And then he was gone.

"What is with Ron today?" Hermione asked as Ron went out of sight.

Harry shrugged. "That's what I was wondering," he said with a sigh. "I haven't seen him this excitable since the Chudley Cannons beat Puddlemere United." Harry shook his head. "That was a long day."

Hermione nodded, remembering the day vividly. "Well, I need to get back to my office," she said eventually. "You'll look over the report?"

Harry nodded. "Oh, and Hermione," he called as she reached the door. "You will find someone. If I can do it then so can you."

"You're telling me I should date one of the Minister's children?" Hermione asked with a smile.

Harry shrugged. "Ginny's off the table but I have heard he's got six sons."

Hermione laughed at Harry's mock serious expression. "See you later, Harry," she said, walking out of sight. A few seconds after she was gone, Ron arrived to take her place.

"Hey, where'd Hermione go?" he asked in surprise as he walked back into the room, looking around as though he expected to find Hermione hiding behind the door.

"Back to her office," Harry replied. "How's Colin?"

"He's good," Ron responded enthusiastically. "He had dinner with his parents last night; they had spaghetti, he had a pizza. It was apparently very good. The pizza that is, not the spaghetti…"

"Okay, Ron, stop," Harry said, cutting Ron off midstream. "You are being so absolutely ridiculous today that I've just got to ask you… are you pleased that Hermione and Tony broke up?"

Ron seemed taken aback by the question. "Well, obviously since he was no good for her than I am pleased they're no longer an item," Ron blustered. "I mean, if she found a good guy then obviously I'd be happy for her and support her relationship, but Tony…"

"So, it's Tony that was the problem," Harry probed, knowing otherwise. "So if Hermione were to go out with, say, Neville, you would be fine with that?"

"Yes," Ron said unconvincingly, his face betraying his emotions. "I mean, Neville is a good guy, he'd take care of her, and if Neville broke up with Alea, not that he would, but-"

"Ron," Harry cut across him, giving him a look that said he wasn't for a moment fooled. After a second Ron sighed, his shoulders slumping as he slipped into the chair across from Harry.

"What should I do?" he asked, putting his head in his hands.

"Well first, you need to calm down," Harry told him. "You're scaring the intern."

Ron looked behind him and spotted the young blonde girl sitting by Cho's desk, the girl looking away hurriedly when she found him watching her. "Right, sorry," Ron apologised, calming down somewhat. "I got a bit out of hand."

"A bit," Harry snorted but refrained from saying anything else.

Glancing behind him again, Ron lowered his voice. "Why do you have an intern?"

Harry shrugged. "It's a Hogwarts organised internship for students with an interest in politics," he said, as though reciting from a personnel file. "Her name is Lizzie Durand and she's 16 years old. She's been here a couple of days, I'm surprised you haven't noticed her yet."

"How long is she going to be here?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Who knows," he replied. "Cho is the one really in charge of her, my name is just added to make it seem more important. Ah, thank you Cho," he said as Cho walked into his office and handed him another file.

"What's that?" Ron asked uninterestedly.

"An application for Deputy Communications Director," Harry replied, shoving the file he'd just been handed underneath the one he had lying open on his desk.

"You're getting a deputy," Ron said in surprise. "Why? When did this happen?"

"Orders from above," Harry said, waving a hand vaguely up in the air. "Amos, to be precise. He said that between me writing all the speeches, keeping the Wizengamot in line and talking to the goblins about the finance council I'm being spread too thin."

"I suppose that makes sense," Ron replied.

"Kind of," Harry said, frowning as he came across a line in the application before him. "It does mean I'll have to spend the whole day deciding who to hire. Does 'very different' make sense?" He asked suddenly, looking up to face Ron questioningly.

"Sure," Ron said with a shrug. "It's 'very the same' that you'd have problems with."

"Hmm," Harry hummed under his breath. "I'm still not particularly happy about it. I just don't think it works in this context."

"The applicants have to submit a speech?" Ron asked, leaning forward to read the file.

"I figure that's the only thing I'd really trust a deputy to do," Harry said. "Especially since I can just get them to send their attempts to me once they're finished and let me correct them before they are actually used."

"I can't believe you get a Deputy," Ron griped good-naturedly. "When do I get one?"

"What would you need one for?" Harry shot back. "You don't do any work as it is."

Ron grinned. "Touché," he chuckled. "So, this speech. What's the scenario?"

"The Minister speaks to an animal conservation society," Harry responded from memory. "They must mention both the Minister's tough stance on poaching and his ideas for opening up an animal reserve on the grounds of Hogwarts."

"An animal reserve on the grounds of Hogwarts?" Ron repeated questioningly.

"It's about seeing if they can take an absurd idea and still write convincingly in favour of it," Harry explained. "I figure this assignment should allow me to see both what they are able to do normally and what they can do in more bizarre scenarios."

"Makes sense," Ron replied. "How many applications have you got?"

"A fair few," Harry replied. "The submission deadline isn't until 10 so there's still time for more. I'll have them all looked at by midday and then I'll start arranging interviews for the afternoon."

"Sounds like you've got this under control then," Ron said, standing up from his seat. "If you need any help just ask."

"'Our proposals will ensure less instances of animal poaching'," Harry quoted. "That's fewer, right?"

Ron nodded. "See you later."

* * *

"Hey Remus, how are things going?" Arthur asked as he stopped in on the Muggle Liaison Office, wide eyed secretaries rushing to get to their feet to show their respect for the Minister.

"Everything's going well, sir," Remus replied, standing up and shaking the Minister's hand warmly. "Parvati has got me up to speed on everything going on at the moment."

"Good, and you've settled into your office?" the Minster replied.

"Well, it's still a little bare," he said conversationally, looking around the room. "But I'm sure that'll change after I've got through a lot more work than I have." He gestured for the Minister to take a seat before sitting back down.

"There is something I'd like to talk to you about," Remus said. "Blaise, do you mind getting the door?" Blaise nodded silently, closing the office door before standing at the back of the room.

"What's the problem?" the Minister asked.

"I got a memo from our muggle counterparts," Remus said, sliding open a draw and pulling out a piece of paper. "They say there has been a rise in muggle's reporting incidents of sorcery or witchcraft over the last few years and they wish to meet with me today."

"That's not all, is it?" the Minister asked. Remus shook his head.

"This morning there was a parade in Aberdeen to celebrate the football team winning the Scottish Cup," Remus continued, pulling out a news article and showing it to the Minister. "A 16 year old wizard decided it would be funny to transfigure the cup into wood, the only problem being that he could only get access to the cup whilst it was being paraded down the street."

"So he violated both the law on Underage Magic and the Statute of Secrecy in one fell swoop," the Minister said with a sigh. "How are the muggle's explaining this off?"

"A firework," Remus replied. "Of course that wouldn't be enough for the players holding the cup at the time so we have an obliviator squad out there now to sort everything out."

"So what's the problem?" the Minister asked. "It sounds to me that everything has gotten under control."

"Yes, except that couldn't be further from the truth," Remus said earnestly, pulling out a stack of parchment from the drawers of his desk. "In the last five years the number of instances of underage magic in front of muggles has doubled. I'm not sure what the last guy was doing here but he has missed a trend of ridiculous proportions."

"Doubled," the Minister repeated. "In five years, are you sure that's right?"

"I had Parvati dig up all the records," Remus confirmed. "We're talking about a significant increase in irresponsible magic use, and what's worse is that the muggles are noticing. The increase in muggle reports of magic isn't coincidental, the muggles are becoming more and more aware of our existence and with the technological advances of the internet and the 24 hour news cycle every story is being reported and more and more people are being informed of these strange happenings."

The Minister was silent for a long time, taking in Remus' words and mulling over his options. "Your meeting, when is it?"

"12 o'clock," Remus replied.

The Minister nodded. "Okay, I'm going to send Amos along with you, just to get you properly introduced to our muggle counterparts," he said, standing up. "Listen to them, see what they have to say, and then meet with me in my office when you get back."

"Yes sir," Remus said.

"I'll tell Amos to meet you at the port key gate at five to twelve," the Minister continued, gesturing for Blaise to open the door. "Good luck, Remus."

"Thank you, sir," Remus replied as he rose with the Minister, walking with him to the office door before waving his goodbye.

"How did it go?" Parvati asked, pulling up alongside him and watching the Minister walk away.

"Okay, I guess," Remus replied. "This was obviously news to the Minister so I think he'll take this seriously. Apart from that we'll just have to see how the meeting goes."

There was a brief moment of silence between them.

"I've nearly completed the Lockheed report," Parvati said suddenly. "I'll have it on your desk when I'm done."

"Thank you," Remus said, walking back into his office and shutting the door behind him.

* * *

"Cho!" Harry called from his office, sorting through the files that were now arranged into little piles on his desk, nearly drowning him out. "Cho!"

"I'm here," she said, striding purposefully into his office. "What do you need?"

"Ah, Cho, there you are," Harry said, moving his head slightly so he could peer between two stacks of parchment. "Could you please take the stack on my right down to records and put them away, I won't be interviewing these people."

Cho raised her eyebrow. "I take it then that you'll be arranging the interviews yourself," she said, putting a hand on her hip.

"I thought you were going to do that," Harry said, confused.

"I was, but then I was given this filing task that will certainly take up too much of my time," Cho retorted. "And for that matter, why didn't you just bring these out for me? In fact, I don't think I've seen you leave your office all morning?"

Harry blushed slightly in embarrassment. "You looked busy out there, I didn't want to get in your way," he said quietly.

Cho just gave him a quizzical look. "When has that ever stopped you?" she asked, frowning at him as he tried to hide behind his piles of parchment.

Suddenly she burst out laughing. "Is this true?" she said, chortling. "Harry, are you afraid of the intern?"

"What, no," Harry said defensively, although he remained hidden behind his towers of parchment. "I just felt that it would be rude to intrude upon her experience here."

"That is the lamest excuse I've ever heard," Cho said with an amused shake of the head. "She's your intern, it would be a bit of a shame if she never actually met you. In fact, why don't we go see her right now."

"Now, do you really think this is the best time?" Harry hedged.

"Of course," Cho said briskly. "You've got a task for her to do, after all."

"Cho, I don't know," Harry replied, shrinking down in his chair. "I don't know how to talk to a 16 year old Hogwarts student, I wasn't even particularly good at it when I was one."

Cho looked at him quizzically. "Where did you hear she was 16?" she asked curiously.

"I had admissions send me her file," Harry admitted guiltily.

"Well admissions have got it wrong," Cho replied. "She's 18 years old and graduated Hogwarts a few months ago with fantastic grades. She's on this internship at the personal recommendation of Headmistress McGonagall."

"Huh, really?" Harry said in surprise. "McGonagall recommended her?"

"Yes, and I believe she also said she was glad that you would be the one supervising her," Cho said pointedly. "I'd hate to disappoint her."

Harry sighed. "The things we do for our teachers," he said as he stood up, grabbing onto the files from his desk. "I'll talk to her, but only if you're there with me. I don't want to be left alone with her."

"Of course, sir," Cho said indulgently, turning her back and rolling her eyes as she led Harry out of his office. "Lizzie!"

"Yes, Miss Chang," the blonde girl said immediately, looking up from the papers she was sorting.

"This is Harry Potter, the Communications Director," Cho gestured to where Harry was placing down the pile of folders. "Harry, this is the intern I was telling you about, Lizzie Durand."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said politely, holding out his hand.

"You too, Mr Potter," Lizzie said with a blush, shaking his hand softly. "It's such an honour to be working for someone so well renowned."

"You can't possibly be talking about me," Harry said with a smile, his nerves unraveling slightly as he talked. "And don't bother with the Mr Potter nonsense, just call me Harry."

"Okay then… Harry," she said with a giggle. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Well, yes, I've got a task for you," Harry said. "It'll be fairly boring work I'm afraid."

"That's okay," Lizzie said, fluttering her eyelashes. "I'll do anything for you."

"Okay, great," Harry replied, taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Could you take this stack of parchment down to the store room and file them away? You just need to match the nine digit code to the right shelf and slip it in. Cho will show you where the store room is."

"Sure," Lizzie said with a smile. "Do you mind if I just use the bathroom before I go?"

"Not at all," Harry said.

"Thank you, Harry," Lizzie said, blushing cutely as she walked away.

"Well, she seemed nice," Harry said with a smile. "You're right Cho, I shouldn't be so nervous around young people."

"Unbelievable," Cho said quietly, shaking her head.

"What?" Harry replied, nonplussed.

"Did you honestly not notice what she was doing?" Cho asked.

"Being nice," Harry answered uncertainly.

"She was flirting with you," Cho said vehemently. "She wasn't even being subtle about it."

"That wasn't flirting," Harry denied. "She was just being nice to me. Everything she said was proper and polite."

"She was batting her eyes, blushing and giggling like an idiot, Harry," Cho listed. "She was flirting with you. She was metaphorically throwing herself at you. Have you never had a girlfriend before?"

"Hey," Harry said indignantly. "I resent that. In case you haven't noticed I have a girlfriend right now."

"Of course," Cho said, calming down slightly. "I'm sorry, but I just want you to realise that she's sucking up to you, big time."

"Right," Harry said, calming down himself. "I hear you, I'll keep an eye out for her." He exhaled loudly, looking around the office space disinterestedly. "Could you arrange the interviews that I want?"

"Just give me the codes and I'll arrange a schedule for you," Cho replied.

"Thanks Cho," Harry said. "Start the interviews at 12 if you can. In the meantime I'm going to look over the report Hermione left me." He walked into his office and scribbled the codes on a blank sheet of parchment, Cho taking it from him as he straightened up and moved round his desk. Picking up Hermione's report, he settled into his chair to read it.

* * *

"Amos, how are you doing?" Remus and Amos were greeted by a tall dark haired men with an immaculate suit, his voice very traditionally english as he welcomed them.

"Stuart, good to see you again," Amos greeted, shaking his hand genially. "Stuart, I'd like to introduce the new Head of our Muggle Liaison Office, Remus Lupin. Remus, this is Stuart Ainsworth, the Head of Magical Affairs for the Prime Minister."

"It's good to meet you," Remus said pleasantly.

"Likewise," Stuart replied. "So, shall we get down to business?" He sat down behind his desk, gesturing to the seats before him. "The incident this morning with the Scottish Cup?"

"A 16 year old kid thought it would be an amusing joke," Amos replied. "Our obliviator squad have wiped the memories of those who were able to see the cup turn to wood."

"Well, that's one particular case settled," Ainsworth said. "But it just highlights the fact that more and more incidents like this keep happening. We've got people petitioning the government to look into these unusual occurrences, thousands of names. These people have seen magic and are convinced it's real."

"We are aware of your dilemma," Amos admitted. "But nothing short of hunting these people down and wiping whole years of their memory will be able to convince them otherwise."

"I am aware that even magic has its limitations," Ainsworth said. "Which is why we should be looking at how to prevent more people from witnessing magic, rather than worry about those that already have. Why are people starting to notice?"

Remus and Amos shared a look. "Underage magic use in front of non-magical people has doubled in frequency in the past five years," Remus said reluctantly. "We're not entirely sure how the previous administration missed this, or in fact whether they even thought it relevant."

"Well, it is relevant," Ainsworth says. "Before we could just brush off the idea of magic as ludicrous, tell them these were the delusions of sick men who had fooled themselves into believing the impossible. Now, more and more people are reporting strange activities, more than your obliviator squad can keep track of. A sizeable chunk of our population believe in magic now, and they're scared of what they don't fully comprehend."

"What's the current policy for dealing with these reports?" Remus asked.

"It depends on how realistic they may sound," Ainsworth replied. "If someone calls in saying he heard a weird sound while he was in bed last night, we can just ignore it. But others come in with more detailed claims, some even with photos or videos of clearly magical happenings."

"We try to misdirect them," Ainsworth continued. "We tell them things like, that man is a famous illusionist or a pyrotechnic expert, those lights were light refractions from the sea or the elephant came from a local travelling circus."

Ainsworth stopped talking with a sigh. "We've used every trick in the book and we still have to continuously defend ourselves from these stories. I'm tired, my magical comrades, tired of misleading the people of my country and mocking those for what they've seen when I know they are speaking the truth. I hate lying to them."

"Stuart, you're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" Amos said warningly, peaking Remus' attention. "Stuart?"

"As the democratically elected leaders of this country we shouldn't be lying to our people," Ainsworth said shortly.

"It's for their own good," Amos argued. "It's just like not revealing nuclear launch codes to the public. Ignorance keeps them safe."

"From what, Amos," Ainsworth retorted. "Wizards. Are you saying that by knowing of their existence the non-magical people of Britain are more at danger than they were before."

"Yes," Amos replied. "And what's worse, they'd bring it on themselves. Say a man in Derbyshire finds out his next-door neighbour is secretly a wizard, what does he do? He'll either fear him, distrust him or badger him to make him solve every single one of his problems."

"You are assuming that," Ainsworth said. "If we release what we know of wizards, what they can actually do and what they can't, what is there to fear?"

"The killing curse," Remus said quietly, bringing the other men's attention to himself. "In a country where it is necessary to have a licence to own a gun the idea that someone else can kill you just as easily without one is terrifying."

"We've tried to live side by side before," Amos said. "And do you know how that ended; witch hunts. Women were burned at the stake, regardless of whether they were ever magical in the first place."

"We've changed," Ainsworth argued. "We've become more civilised."

"Maybe," Amos replied. "On the other hand we still have crime. Murder, theft, rape. Do we really want to give people another reason to fight?"

Ainsworth pursed his lips, not happy at all with how the conversation was going. "I was told by the previous Head of Muggle Liaison's that anti-muggle sentiment was at an all time low."

"It is," Amos responded. "But it is still there, and something like this would bring all those nay sayers back into the public eye. They will take the inevitable scuffles between wizard and muggle and use it as propaganda. Wizarding society is still fragile and still well behind yours, but we are improving."

"Yet you still fear being honest with us?" Ainsworth questioned, sighing as he glanced at his watch. "I fear we will not reach an agreement now," he said, rising to his feet. "You should return to your Ministry and talk to your Minister, just as I will speak to the Prime Minister."

"Very well," Amos said, rising to his feet and shaking his hand.

"It was good to meet you," Remus said as Ainsworth turned to him.

"Likewise, and I look forward to the many meetings we will undoubtedly have in the future," Ainsworth replied, shaking his hand too as Amos pulled out their port key, ready to return to the Ministry.

* * *

Harry chewed his lip as he looked through the application again, glancing over at the nervously energetic young man across from him. "How many drafts did you write?" Harry asked, flipping to another page and focusing in on a line that had bothered him.

"Seven, sir," the man said quickly, sitting on the edge of his chair eagerly.

"And this is your seventh, right?" Harry questioned as he re-circled the offending sentence.

"Yes, sir," the man told him, his body almost trembling as he waited on tenterhooks for Harry to speak.

"Seven," Harry repeated, circling another section he'd previously underlined. "This line, 'for now we owe it to ourselves to protect our aquatic wildlife, from the fishes and the octopi to the sharks and the dolphins'. Are you happy with it?"

"Yes, sir," the man said, nodding his head emphatically. "I think it's very emotive and gets across how strongly the Minister-"

"Ron, can you come in here for a moment?" Harry called as he saw Ron walk past his office door, cutting the applicant off mid word.

"Yes Harry?" Ron said, wandering into the office casually.

"Ron, could you perhaps point out what is wrong with this line?" Harry asked him. "'for now we owe it to ourselves to protect our aquatic wildlife, from the fishes and the octopi to the sharks and the dolphins'."

"Well, the word fishes is wrong unless you are referring to the various types of fish as opposed to just all the fish in general," Ron replied immediately. "And on that note the plural of Octopus is Octopuses or Octopodes."

"Also sharks are actually a type of fish so it makes no sense to list them as a separate creature, especially when we use the word fishes," Harry added, resisting the temptation to score right through the line. "It just makes the Minister look stupid."

"Would they care?" the applicant asked.

"They are an animal conservation society," Harry stressed. "If they don't care then they should."

"I didn't know sharks were a type of fish," Ron said in surprise.

"Well, you flunked Care of Magical Creatures so I'm not surprised," Harry retorted, to which Ron shrugged.

"Harry," Cho said as she squeezed past Ron to get into the office. "The Minister is calling a staff meeting, so I suppose this is for you too, Ron."

Ron nodded. "We better go," he told Harry.

"Alright," Harry said before turning to the applicant. "I'll be back after this meeting, in the meantime try and figure out why polar bears don't hunt penguins in the wild." Harry left on that note, walking briskly out of the room and following Ron down the corridor as Cho went back to her desk.

"Why don't polar bears eat penguins?" Ron asked suddenly, to which Harry gave him an 'are you kidding' look. "I know it's probably a really simple thing that any human being should know but I'm interested."

Harry sighed. "Polar bears live at the north pole, penguins live in Antarctica," he explained simply. "In order to hunt them the polar bears would have to travel half way around the world and back for every meal."

"That makes sense," Ron admitted. "I just assumed, you know, since they both live on ice…"

"Hey Daphne," Harry said as he entered the Minister's outer office. "Please tell Ron that I don't care about any excuse he may have for his truly appalling animal general knowledge."

"Oh, was he telling you how the Kracken is a real creature?" Daphne asked sympathetically.

"It is," Ron exclaimed. "They live in the Mediterranean. Why does no one believe me on this?"

"Because every reported finding of a Kracken has actually been proven to be a giant squid," Harry replied. "And even if they were real, legend states they would live off the coast of Norway."

"And Greenland," Daphne added. "You can go on ahead, you're the last people to arrive."

Moving into the Minister's office they found the Minister, Amos, Remus, Hermione and Neville standing around waiting for them.

"Sorry we're late," Harry said as they walked towards the group. "We had some… legendary sea monster issues."

"Ah, Ron still trying to convince you the Kraken is real?" the Minister said knowingly.

Ron held his tongue this time, no doubt realising it was a different thing arguing with the Minister than arguing with the Minister's assistant. Instead he asked, "What's happened?"

"Remus and Amos have just returned from their meeting with the Head of Magical Affairs at Downing Street," the Minister informed them. "They've been having trouble with an increased belief in the existence of magic, due mainly with the fact that underage magic occurrences in front of muggles have been rising dramatically."

Remus took over from this point. "Downing Street is calling on us to either prevent their public from seeing magic in the first place or," he paused. "Or we come clean with the non-magical public, admit we're here."

There was an explosion of noise in the room as Harry, Ron and Neville immediately started arguing, gesturing wildly.

"Enough," the Minister said, not raising his voice but still being heard. The room fell silent. "I know this is an idea we are not at all comfortable with but we need to remain calm so that we can discuss this in a civilised manner."

"I think first we need to look at ways of reducing these instances of magic in front of muggles," Remus said. "The best way to hide something is to not show it, it's only because muggles are seeing magic that they suspect anything."

"So, you suggest tougher penalties for those using magic in front of muggles," Neville continued his train of thought. "Disincentivise the crime by punishing it harshly."

"The Statute of Secrecy doesn't actually give any description of the punishment dealt to those who broke it," Harry said. "Imposing bigger fines would be both possible and likely effective."

"Except it won't work on underage magic users, which Remus said are the biggest problem area," Hermione pointed out. "Younger people don't understand money as well as their parents do."

"But the parents might get stricter with their rules if we increase fines," Neville pointed out. "The parents won't want to pay the money just because their children wouldn't follow the rules so they'd put much more stress on the rule."

"Would it make a difference?" Harry asked. "You'd have thought the existing laws would be enough. First time you get a warning, second time you're expelled from school."

"A lot more of our children are learning at home with private tutors these days," Amos told him. "It's only those that go to Hogwarts who really worry about the rule."

"Then raising the fines wouldn't work either," Harry pointed out. "The kids that are breaking the law are the ones from families that have a lot of money, and therefore aren't as affected by the fines. And what about the less well off families. One slip up and they get smacked with a massive fine that could potentially stop them from being able to feed themselves properly. The current system is tough enough on those families, we can't make it worse."

"Maybe a fine based on family income," Neville suggested.

"That wouldn't work," Ron denied. "Families would complain that they're being disproportionally fined and the system would have to be so complicated to account for every form of income that nobody would really understand it."

"So what's left?" Hermione asked. "Better education?"

"That's interesting," Harry agreed. "If we can impress upon children at a very young age how important it is not to expose ourselves to muggles we may be able to bring the numbers right down."

"What is it causing the numbers to rise?" Ron asked Remus. "They're increasing at a much greater rate than our population is, why is this happening?"

"It comes back to the courts," Remus said. "Parents claim there was a valid reason for using magic and often the child just gets a slap on the wrist. It makes them think they can get away with it over and over again."

"So we tell the courts to get tougher on this issue," Neville summed up. "That should help short term and in the long term we'll focus on better educating the children."

"Maybe we could introduce mandatory basic muggle studies," Hermione suggested. "Teach them this lesson from the moment they first start using magic."

"Are we going to talk about coming out into the open with the muggles?" Remus asked, to which the room quietened down. "I've worked at muggle schools and the things they are learning everyday tells me that one day they are going to have the technology to find us, and we'd be better off if we told them first."

"We can't, Remus," Ron said quietly. "Even if we are able to get the muggles on board at first they'll not stay satisfied for very long. We are a society who has hidden away and manipulated them without them even knowing for centuries. We tell them we exist and they'll ask what we've been doing these last couple of hundred years. Are you ready to admit to that? I know I'm not."

"Our own society would kill any attempt at peace with the muggles," Harry brought up. "We still have a lot of blood purists in our society, in our government even, who think magic is might. These people won't sit back and watch us become friends with muggles, they'll fight. We'll hear stories about muggles burned in their own homes, mentally abused in a way no muggle could ever understand."

"They won't stop at random civilians," Neville added. "Assassination attempts on the Prime Minister are almost guaranteed, and who knows how well the muggles are equipped to repel them. This could spark a civil war, where either one of our races being destroyed, or else sent into hiding." Neville shook his head sadly. "We're not ready to face them."

"We may never be ready," Remus spoke. "But we may not have a choice. I'm not talking about now, I'm talking about the future. Don't we owe it to the next generations to try and get ready. Think about it. Blood purity as an issue is getting less and less important as the days go by, we may be ready to meet the muggles when they do inevitably find us."

"And the muggles?" Harry asked. "What's to say they won't start a war in fear of what we can do. If we wait for them to find us they may just obliterate us before we realise we're caught."

"Perhaps we can get them ready too," Remus said, to surprised looks around the room. "Ron, would you be surprised if we discovered that the Kraken is real?"

"Well, no," Ron replied.

"Why is that?"

"Because I already thought they were real," Ron said obviously.

"And why do you think that?" Remus pushed forward, ignoring the bewildered look on Ron's face.

"Because that's what we taught you as a child," the Minister said understandingly. "We read you stories of a terrible sea creature that sunk pirate ships and so you still believe that it is true."

"So are you saying," Hermione said slowly, catching on. "That we can teach the muggles about us, through children's stories?"

"I don't know if we can," Remus said as everyone's attention piqued up. "I'm just saying we could try. If we have children's stories, with the same morals and emotions we share with the muggles, we can tell them what we can and can't do, and more importantly, what we will and will not do."

"So you're saying we can teach them about this curse that can kill someone in a second," Ron said. "But we can also teach them how seriously we take that as a society."

"Exactly," Remus said excitedly. "Muggles may still be wary of our powers but they would also recognise the moral code we live by. They may fear things like Dementors and Dragons, but they'll be taught about how we wizards have learned to protect people from them."

"They won't be happy about the way to ward off dementors," Harry pointed out.

"But they will feel comforted by the fact that it is an emotion they recognise so well that we use to drive them back," Remus countered. "We may not be ready to show ourselves to the muggles in our lifetime, but instead of being wary of these people with unusual powers the muggles might actually see us for what we are, a society that's doing its best to do the right thing."

There was silence in the office as he finished speaking, each of them looking at each other with a strange feeling of hope they had never expected.

"Well, this was a productive meeting," the Minister said with a wry smile. "Rather bizarrely I feel like we're actually starting to get things done around here." A few chuckles followed his remarks as the senior staff started to relax after their debate.

"Remus," the Minister continued. "You and Amos go back to Downing Street tomorrow and tell Ainsworth what we've been talking about in here. Amos, let Remus do the talking, he's very convincing."

"Will do, sir," Amos said. "Harry, could you join me in my office before you go?"

Harry followed Amos into his office as the rest of the Senior Staff started to wander back to their daily tasks. Shutting the door behind him, Harry turned to find Amos leaning back against his desk.

"How's the new Deputy Communications Director coming along?" Amos asked.

"I'm currently at the interview stage," Harry said. "I looked through the applications and selected the best ones."

"I heard what the application was," Amos said pointedly. "A speech, no one is going to fulfil your high standards on that."

"That may be so," Harry said. "But I can still find the person who comes closest to fitting the criteria."

"I suppose you're going to make this mainly a speech writing role?" Amos said.

"I've got too much of a relationship with the members of the wizengamot, and for that matter other important councils," Harry pointed out. "I'm not particularly happy about delegating my speech writing either but I understand I have to make sacrifices."

"I'm not doubting your ability," Amos told him. "I'm not even doubting the fact you can do all these things at once."

"Then what are you doubting?" Harry asked.

"Your health," Amos told him. "I've been thinking about it ever since Councillor Wilson went down with dragon pox. If I fall ill I have Neville to fill my boots, if Hermione falls ill Demelza can take the press conferences. If you fall ill who am I counting on? Cho? Ron? As much as I appreciate their talents, they couldn't do what you do."

"So when you said you wanted me to appoint a deputy," Harry said slowly. "You really wanted me to appoint a _deputy_."

"Just something to think about," Amos said. "When you are conducting your interviews. Who would you trust to do your job?"

"Right," Harry said. "Okay, thank you, Amos."

Amos nodded to him, signalling that he should go. Exiting the office and walking past Luna's desk, Harry almost ran straight into Ron.

"What pearls of wisdom did Amos give you?" Ron asked as he fell into step beside him.

"He wants me to think about who I would trust to do my job if I was unavailable," Harry replied, accepting a bunch of forms from Cho as she passed him and scribbling down his signature on them.

"You should listen to him," Ron advised. "He was involved in all the hiring meetings when we got our jobs, I'd say he was pretty good at it."

"Can't argue with that," Harry conceded. "Are you going to see Hermione?"

"No," Ron replied. "I could though."

"Great, can you hand her these forms," Harry said, passing the pile of parchment to Ron. "I've got to get back to my interviewee."

"Good luck," Ron said as they split up, Ron heading straight on while Harry turned to the left. It wasn't a long walk before he found himself standing by the door to Hermione's office, which was left open.

"Hey Hermione, Harry asked me to pass these to you," Ron said, strolling in and dropping the documents on a free spot on her desk. "What are you writing?"

"I'm drafting some lines about the new muggle contact methods we're hoping to achieve," Hermione answered, scribbling away at her parchment. "I can imagine there are going to be a lot of questions on this so I may need the head start."

"Hermione, don't do that," Ron admonished, causing Hermione to look up. "This is never going to get to the public. We'll be long out of office before anyone finds out."

"Maybe that is the case," Hermione conceded. "But do we not owe it to the wizarding public to tell them we're doing this?"

"Maybe," Ron said, copying Hermione's reply. "Maybe that's the honourable thing to do, be honest with our people. But, Hermione, if we tell them about this the blood purist elements of our society are going to do exactly what we just said they would do when the muggles find us. One of the big necessities of our plan is that the ideas of blood purism are pretty much extinct by the time the muggles find us. If we tell them we're doing this it'll give them a cause to remain in our society for as long as they want. Hermione, don't do it."

Hermione sighed after a moment, dropping her quill and flattening out her only just started speech. "You're right," she admitted. "As much as I feel it is wrong to withhold information from the public I know you're making sense."

"Thank you, Hermione," Ron said. "You know what… no," he started, before stopping again. He seemed to have some sort of internal struggle, before he walked towards the door.

"You know what your problem is," Ron said, turning to face Hermione as he stopped just in front of the door. "You're too nice. Most of the time that's a good thing but there are people out there who will try to take advantage of that and will step on you and force you down to achieve their own goals."

"I'm saying this both as the Political Strategy Director and your friend, don't let anyone step on you." He stood there for a second, staring straight into Hermione's wide eyes, before he turned and left, leaving behind a stunned Hermione.

* * *

"The next applicant is outside," Cho told Harry, "Do you want me to send him in?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Harry sighed. "How many interviews do I have left?"

"This is the last one," Cho informed him. "You're nearly done."

"Thank god," Harry moaned. "I'm honestly ready to kill someone right now. I'll finish up with this guy and then I'm going home."

"Alright Harry," Cho said, leaving the room. A few seconds later a young man with dark hair walked in, looking very nervous.

"Hi, thank you for giving me the opportunity to interview for this post, my name is Dennis Cr-" The man started before he was cut off.

"That's more than I need to know," Harry cut in, his feet resting on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. "Sit down and let's get to it."

Dennis sat down in the seat across from Harry, looking even more nervous at Harry's seeming disinterest.

"First off, how many drafts have you written?" Harry asked, application held open in his lap as he checked it over.

"One," Dennis replied nervously.

Harry looked up in surprise. "One?" He asked. "I'm sorry, but are you taking this seriously? Do you think one draft is good enough for the Minister?"

"I am taking this seriously, I promise," Dennis said earnestly. "My agent only called me about the opportunity an hour before the deadline for submissions."

"Really?" Harry said with a raised eyebrow. "Where were you when your agent called?"

"The cinema," Dennis replied.

"Alone?" Harry questioned.

"With my girlfriend," Dennis answered, before amending himself. "My ex-girlfriend, now."

Harry was quiet for a couple of minutes, not entirely sure what to say. "Well, that would explain the change in handwriting on page 2," he continued, business like.

"Yeah, that's when the movie started," Dennis explained. "They put the lights down and I couldn't see the parchment as clearly as before."

Harry nodded, reading through the file before him. "Your speech is certainly very emotive," Harry said, flipping through the pages. "Not particularly fact heavy, but the language used covers that up quite well."

"Yes, well, I thought, given who this speech was being made to, that they would already know a lot of the facts in the first place," Dennis said. "I thought talking about our ideals and plans should take precedence."

"Fair enough," Harry noted. "It perhaps could use a few more facts to show that the Minister does know what he's talking about, but I see your point. What happened at the end?"

"I started to run out of time," Dennis admitted. "I wanted to go over it again if I had the opportunity but…"

Harry nodded in understanding. "Dennis, I'm going to ask you something you may not have expected when preparing for this interview," Harry said, throwing the application onto the table. "If the Ministry were trying to create a wildlife sanctuary on Hogwarts grounds, what would you do to get the Wizengamot on your side?"

Dennis took a second to think. "I would talk to the Warlocks of the Wizengamot and try to convince them of why they should vote in favour of it," he said. "But truthfully a bill like that wouldn't pass the Wizengamot. Instead the Ministry would be better off creating a sanctuary in a much less well known area and leave Hogwarts as it is."

"What if the Minister insists it be at Hogwarts?" Harry pressed.

"I'd advise the Minister that we wouldn't be able to get approval from the Wizengamot," Dennis said. "But if he insisted I'd do my best to pass the vote, and I would fail."

"Good call," Harry said appreciatively, taking his feet off the desk and leaning forward in his chair. "How about you go back to wherever it is you-"

Harry was cut off by his office door opening, Colin stepping into the room. "Hey Harry, Ron wanted…" he tailed off as he noticed the people in the room. "Dennis?"

"Hi Colin," Dennis said with a nervous laugh. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Wait, am I missing something?" Harry asked, looking between the two of them.

Dennis laughed again. "Yes, as I was saying, my name is Dennis Creevey," Dennis told him.

"Oh," Harry said, catching on. "Well this is interesting, isn't it?" Harry looked between the two brothers with amusement. "I would think you'd want to talk to each other for a bit. Don't worry, Colin, I'm almost finished here."

"That's okay, Harry," Colin said. "I just wanted to let you know Ron's seen the Apothecary report you forwarded to him and he says he's got it under control."

"Great, thanks Colin," Harry said gratefully. Colin hesitated for a second, before leaving the room, leaving Harry and Dennis alone.

"So, I can assume you forgot to mention to your brother that you were applying for this job," Harry said with a smile.

"He's always so busy," Dennis excused himself. "I didn't deliberately keep him in the dark."

Harry chuckled. "Well, back to the task at hand," Harry said. "Go home and have a look over this speech and redraft it. I'll meet you here at midday and we'll go over it together."

"Thank you," Dennis said gratefully, rising to his feet, Harry mimicking him. "You have no idea how grateful I am for this opportunity."

"You may find I understand more than you think," Harry told him, leading him out of his office. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Dennis smiled gratefully as he walked off, Colin catching him up half way down the corridor. Harry watched as they talked, until eventually they turned a corner and moved out of sight.

"I'm getting Dennis to redraft his application," Harry told Cho, dropping his old application on Cho's desk. "He'll meet me at 12 tomorrow."

"Shall I call the other applicants and tell them you need another day to make your decision?" Cho asked, reaching for the phone.

"Nope," Harry said thoughtfully. "Just tell them they didn't get it," he said, shrugging on his cloak. "See you tomorrow Cho, Lizzie." He locked his office door behind him and strolled away, nodding to Ron as he passed his office.

* * *

"Hey Remus," Ron said, walking up to Remus's office door and peaking inside.

"Hey Ron," Remus replied, his voice slightly hassled as he searched through his drawers for something.

"Is this an okay moment to talk?" Ron asked uncertainly, noting the feverishness of Remus' movements.

"I'm afraid not, Ron," Remus replied with genuine sorrow as he seemed to find what he was looking for. "I've got to go see the Minister right now."

"Is this about the muggle thing?" Ron asked. "Parvati mentioned that you'd just come back from meeting their Magical Affairs Office."

"Yes, that's it," Remus replied, rounding his desk and exiting his office, leading Ron out into the corridor beyond. "I talked to Ainsworth and he said he'd have to talk it over with the Prime Minister before they could go any further. Anyway, I got back to the office and half an hour later there was a memo from Downing Street asking for a meeting between the Minister and the Prime Minister."

"That'll be difficult," Ron told him. "The Minister's schedule is pretty full, and I can't imagine the Prime Minister's will be less so."

"Exactly," Remus agreed. "They sent me a couple of appointment times so hopefully we'll be able to find a match."

"You're going to need a lot of time for that meeting," Ron said. "This won't be a simple matter at all."

"I agree," Remus replied. "I don't think we'll get through everything in one meeting, especially with the lack free time the Prime Minister seems to have. I just want to get through enough talks so that both sides have an understanding on what we are trying to do."

"Daphne," Remus said as they reached the Minister's outer office. "Could you see if the Minister's got any time free at any of these slots?" He slipped the memo he'd received in front of her.

"Let me see," Daphne said, looking through a piece of parchment she had sitting neatly at the edge of her desk. "He's free at two o'clock but he's got a meeting at 2:10," she told Remus.

"We'll need more time than that," Remus replied. "Is there any way to push back that appointment?"

"Hang on, I'll just check," Daphne said, picking up her phone and quickly dialling a number. For the next few minutes Daphne spoke on the phone, Remus and Ron remaining silent as she worked.

"Okay, thanks," Daphne said, hanging up. "I've been able to push that meeting back to 2:30," she informed Remus. "What should I put in it's place?"

"Meeting with the Prime Minister," Remus responded promptly.

"And he'll know what it's about?" Daphne asked.

"He'll undoubtedly be able to figure it out," Remus replied. "Is he in right now, I'd like to brief him before the meeting?"

"He's in a meeting but will be back in around ten minutes," Daphne replied.

"I'll be back then," Remus said, picking up the memo again and turning on the spot. He walked out of the Minister's outer office and instead went to Amos', Ron on his heels.

"Is he in?" Remus asked Luna.

"Mr Diggory is looking over some papers right now," Luna informed him. "I'm sure he'd be happy to see you."

"Great," Remus said, knocking on the office door and opening it. "Amos, I've just heard from Downing Street."

"What do they want?" Amos asked from behind his desk.

"A meeting between the Minister and the Prime Minister," Remus replied. "I've tabled in an appointment for two but I wanted to brief the Minister before he went."

"The Minister is in a meeting right now," Amos told him.

"I know, but Daphne said he'll be back in about ten minutes," Remus replied. "I thought I'd catch you up in the meantime."

"Alright," Amos said. "Ron, are you with Remus?"

"Oh no," Ron replied. "Remus gave me a brief overview but we were only just talking about this in the corridor."

"Then what are you here for?" Amos asked.

"Nothing, I was just talking with Remus," Ron answered weakly.

Amos rolled his eyes. "Why don't you get back to work," he said dismissively.

"Right, of course," Ron said, turning to leave before hesitating slightly. "There's just one thing…"

"Yes, what is it?" Amos asked, frowning.

For a moment Ron seemed to struggle with himself, before he let out a defeated sigh. "Doesn't matter, it's not important," he said, waving it away. "I'll just go."

"Oh, Ron, before I forget," Remus said suddenly. "Could you get a message to Parvati that the meeting will be at two and that she should inform Ainsworth?"

"Will do," Ron nodded, leaving the room and closing the door behind him with a tired sigh. Closing his eyes, Ron took a deep breath before he started to move again.

"Problem, Ronald?" Luna asked, causing him to jump as he'd forgotten she would be there. "Anything you'd like to talk about?"

Ron hesitated again, but again opted not to speak. "No, I'm fine," he told her. "Luna, could you get a message to Parvati Patil that the Minister will meet the Prime Minister at two and that she should inform Ainsworth of the situation?"

"Will do," Luna said promptly, scribbling down what Ron had said before picking up the phone, presumably to read off what she'd just written. Nodding his thanks, Ron decided to start making his way back towards his office.

"Hey Neville, have you got a moment?" Ron asked as he saw him walking down the corridor towards him.

"Sorry Ron," Neville said hurriedly. "I've got a meeting with the goblins."

"Don't worry about it," Ron waved him away as Neville briefly hesitated. "Is Harry going to be there?"

"Yes," Neville said, rearranging the documents in his arms. "Would you like me to tell him you're looking for him?"

"No, no, it's fine," Ron waved him off again. "It's not really important." Taking another moment to look at Ron, Neville quickly hurried away again. "Good luck, Neville," Ron called to his retreating back, not really getting a reply as Neville disappeared out of sight.

* * *

"Requested entrance for the Minister for Magic in relation to meeting with the Prime Minister," the portly figure in the painting on the far wall said officially.

"Request accepted," the Prime Minister responded, having now got used to the rather bizarre portrait on the wall. The figure in the portrait disappeared and no more than a second later a man appeared in front of him, holding on to a circular disk.

"Prime Minister Haywood," the Minister for Magic greeted warmly, placing his port key safely inside his robe pocket. "As always, a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise, Minister Weasley," Benton Haywood replied, having grown to both like and admire the balding, red headed man. "Please, have a seat. May I get you something to drink?"

"Perhaps a glass of water," the Minister suggested. "Port key travel always leaves me awfully dehydrated." The Prime Minister complied, pouring out two glasses of icy cold water that he'd had brought to his office, knowing his counterpart's need for rehydration from past experience.

"I hear Ainsworth has been speaking with your new Head of the…" the Prime Minister struggled a second for the name, "…Muggle Liaison Office. He's seemed quite impressed with his conviction."

"Well, I've known Remus for many years," the Minister said lightly. "He can be really quiet and mild most of the time, but what makes him such a great man to have around is the passion he brings to his work."

"I think that could be said for any of us major politicians," the Prime Minister said with a smile. "I've always said that's what separates us from normal people."

The Minister chuckled at that, before taking a gentle sip of water and moving on. "Benton, I have only half an hour free so it would perhaps be best if we move straight on to business," he said, leaning forward in his chair as he placed his glass down on a coaster.

"That would seem fair," Benton said, likewise placing down his glass. "I understand you've completely ruled out coming out to the non-wizarding public."

"That is correct," Arthur stated. "We did debate this, we didn't just decide to stay safe and stick with the status quo, but we still came to the decision that it would be a bad idea. I don't think either of our societies are ready for that yet."

"But you think that through careful conditioning you can train our people to accept this," Benton challenged. "I agree we would have difficulties dealing with the knowledge that there are witches and wizards living among us, but I also believe we will be able to accept it, just like we did when we gave black men equal rights, and when we gave women the right to vote."

"I'm not claiming that non-magical people wouldn't be able to deal with this," Arthur responded. "I'm telling you that the magical people are the ones that are causing the problem."

"Is this because of the blood purists you have mentioned in the past?" Benton asked.

"Partly," Arthur replied. "Blood purity has become less and less an important issue as the years have passed, and we still strive to this day to ensure muggleborns and purebloods stand on equal grounds."

"If the ideas are starting to die out then why can't the wizarding world accept their place in relation to the muggle world?" Benton asked.

"The blood purists are low in number now, there's no doubting that," Arthur told him. "But that isn't the only problem with wizarding society. Non-magical people are, on the whole, incredibly tolerant of those who are different. Wizards are not."

Arthur took another sip of water before continuing. "In our world we have goblins, werewolves, centaurs, mermen, each magical creatures with the sentience and the intelligence to have built their own societies. Yet we have famously struggled to accept them as part of our society, creating hostility with even the most mild mannered of races."

"I think I see where this is going," Benton said as Arthur started to build up ahead of steam.

"It's not that I think non-magical's would have trouble accepting us, it's that I believe the wizards will react badly to being exposed," Arthur said. "The blood purists will be small in number but people will listen to them, because people get scared."

"That sounds as though the wizarding world is still as backwards as you claimed it used to be," Benton said, a slight tone of admonishment in his voice.

"In a way it is," Arthur replied with a sigh. "But we're trying to change that. Muggleborns now have equal rights as purebloods in the eyes of the law, as do half-bloods. Werewolves still find themselves at odds with society but now we provide services to allow werewolves to get through the full moon in the comfort they need. And right now I've got members of my senior staff in meetings with representatives from the Goblin Council in order to introduce a new wizard-goblin finance council."

"I know I can't tell you to do this," Arthur said. "I have no authority over you. What I am doing is trying to help you so that one day, when the non-magical people do find the wizards, they can accept them, even with all their foibles."

Benton sat back in his chair, once again marvelling at his counterparts conviction. He wondered, as he often did, if he would be such a strong minister if his society was like the red haired man's across from him.

"I understand, Arthur," Benton said. "In fact I never doubted for a minute the intentions you had when you made this decision. I understand why you think this is a good idea, and to be honest with you I've got to say that I'd be very interested in working with the wizarding world with a project like this. Let's get down to specifics."

Arthur smiled. "I was thinking stories centred around Hogwarts would be a good idea," he said conversationally.

"The school?" Benton asked, weighing up the idea. "Certainly fits into the idea of teaching people about magic."

"Not only that, but Hogwarts is where wizarding children grow into adults," Arthur said animatedly. "It's not just magic they learn, it's morals." Arthur took another sip of water, before launching into his idea, getting so into the discussion that he was quite a bit late for his next meeting.

* * *

"This line here seems a bit long winded," Harry pointed out as he and Dennis leaned over the final draft of Dennis' speech. "You've got a good flow going and it just gets a little caught up on this line."

"How about this?" Dennis asked, scratching through part of the line and adding a small section further ahead. Harry took his time studying it, mulling the words over, before he made a small change and pronounced himself satisfied.

"Now, this word here," he pointed to the line below. "You've used it a couple of times already, it might be a bit-"

"Harry," Ron called from the doorway. "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," Harry replied, placing his quill down as Dennis went back to checking his speech. "What's up?"

"Eh, it's nothing, it's just," Ron paused, unsure what to do. "Can we talk about this in my office?"

Harry frowned, but nodded, getting out of his seat and following Ron out of the room. Walking into Ron's office, Harry turned to him as he closed the door behind them, waiting patiently.

"Ok, this is the thing," Ron said, before seeming to rethink his decision. "Actually, no, don't worry about it."

"Ron," Harry said firmly, cutting through Ron's babbling. "If this is putting you into such a state you should just tell me. Alright?"

"Alright?" Ron nodded, still shifting slightly from foot to foot. "You know the rule, you know, the half-your-age-plus-seven rule?" Harry nodded. "Is that really a rule or is it more just a guideline?"

"Well, it is called a rule," Harry replied, feeling confused. "But by that logic it's acceptable for me to date a 21 year old but not a 20 year old. Why are you asking?"

"Well, I was talking to someone," Ron replied nervously. "She was a bit young, only 18 actually, but I'm sure she was flirting with me."

"She was," Harry nodded in exasperation. "Her name wasn't Lizzie Durand by any chance?"

"Yes," Ron said in surprise. "How did you know?"

"She's my intern," Harry replied. "She tried flirting with me yesterday, I thought Cho must have been mistaken, but…" Harry sighed as he rubbed at his growing headache. "I'll need to have a word with her."

"She was playing me?" Ron asked, somewhere between horror and disgust.

"I'm afraid so," Harry said as he made his way to the door. "If it helps at all I fell for it too. I'll see you later." Harry walked out of Ron's office, leaving behind a shellshocked Ron.

"Hey Cho, where's Lizzie?" Harry asked as he looked around, unable to see the blonde haired intern anywhere.

"She's in the store room," Cho told him. "Why? What do you need her for?"

"Nothing," Harry waved off. "I just need to have a word with her. I'll be back in a few minutes." He started to move away before he thought of something else. "Hey, Cho, have the employment papers ready for when I get back."

"Really?" Cho asked in surprise. "You're really going to hire him?"

Harry shrugged. "He's young, he works hard," he reasoned. "I think I can work with him. Just have the papers ready for when I get back."

"Will do, Harry," Cho replied as he walked off, turning down a few corridors until he reached the store room. Entering, Harry had to dodge quickly as an assistant went bustling past, an entire box of files held in his arms. After he had cleared the doorway, Harry looked up to see the room empty except for himself and Lizzie, putting files away onto one of the many shelves.

"Harry," she greeted with a dazzling smile, placing the stack of papers on the table beside her as she spotted him.

"Miss Durand," Harry said shortly, closing the distance between them quickly. "We need to talk."

"What about?" Lizzie asked, trying to maintain her cheerful facade but feeling slightly unsettled by Harry's demeanour.

"I understand you're an intern and you want to make a good impression," Harry said sternly. "But you do not go sucking up to people. When you did it to me I was happy to just let it go, but doing it with Ron too is simply not on."

"I'm sorry," Lizzie said but she was quickly overridden by Harry again.

"This is the Ministry of Magic," he ranted. "This is where we run the country. We do not behave like this. We work hard every single second and if you think you're going to get anywhere doing anything else you're in for a big shock."

Lizzie was close to tears by the time Harry finished his rant. "I'm sorry," she said pitifully, sniffing as she tried desperately to hold the tears back. "I just really wanted a good recommendation. I didn't want to but my sister told me I had to use everything I had to my advantage and I didn't want to fail just because I didn't try everything."

"Lizzie," Harry said seriously, cutting across her confessions. "What you've been doing is unforgivable in a place like this, but I'm willing to let this slide." Lizzie looked up in amazed as he said this, but Harry's stern expression kept her grounded.

"I want to see you work," Harry told her. "That is all. I want you to work as hard as you can, and to realise that that is the only thing that matters here. I will base my evaluation on the quality of your work and not on how nice a person you are. Nice doesn't get you very far in this business." Lizzie nodded in understanding, her voice having left her.

"Good," Harry said approvingly. "Okay, this is what is going to happen. You are going to pull yourself together, do up another button on your shirt," he gestured to the revealing way she was wearing the garment, "file away these papers and try this again."

"Yes sir," Lizzie said quietly, looking down to the floor.

"Lizzie," Harry said, catching her attention. "You are here under the recommendation of Minerva McGonagall, don't let her down." Harry turned and walked from the room, entering the corridor beyond as though nothing had happened.

"I'm back, have you got the papers?" Harry said promptly as he arrived back outside his office.

"On your desk," Cho replied. "I've put red crosses where he needs to sign and black crosses for you."

"Great," Harry replied. "Does he realise what you brought in?"

"I don't think so," Cho said thoughtfully, glancing through the office door at Dennis's back. "He was really focused on the speech, I'm not even sure he realised I was there."

Harry nodded approvingly, before walking into his office and sitting behind his desk. Without fuss he signed his name next to the black crosses and placed the forms in front of Dennis. "Sign next to the red crosses," Harry told him.

Dennis looked up in shock. "Are you giving me the job?" he asked breathlessly, seemingly unable to believe it.

"Yes," Harry replied simply. "You have shown me an adequate ability with speech writing and I believe you will have the ability to grow while you are here."

"Thank you," Dennis said breathlessly. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome," Harry smiled before he jabbed his finger at the forms. "Now sign this, before I change my mind."

With a grin Dennis scribbled his name down, finishing with a flourish as he wrote his signature for the last time.

"Congratulations," Harry said as he pulled the forms together. "Cho!" Cho hurried into the room. "Here are the forms for HR," Harry told her, passing the forms back to her.

Cho took them and quickly left the room, no doubt on her way to submit the forms she'd just received. Harry stood up and rounded the desk, leading Dennis out of his office.

"Be here tomorrow, at 9 o'clock, sharp," Harry told him before offering his hand. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Dennis smiled, taking his hand and shaking it. "I won't let you down."

"I don't care about that," Harry told him. "I just want you to promise you won't let the Minister down."

Dennis' smile grew wider. "I promise," he said sincerely. Turning away Dennis headed down the corridor.

Watching him go, Harry was interested to see him stop and talk to Lizzie, blushing slightly as he spoke to the girl. Frowning, Harry squinted after them as they eventually broke apart. Getting a better look at Lizzie, Harry smiled as he saw the very real blush on her cheeks and her shirt properly buttoned up.

Noticing he was standing on his own with nothing to do, Harry went back into Ron's office, which still stood with its door ajar.

"Hey Harry," Ron said gloomily as Harry stepped inside.

"Hey Ron," Harry replied. "Something the matter?" he asked as he sat in the seat across the desk from his friend.

"It's nothing," Ron waved away tiredly. "Not anything you'd care about at any rate."

"You'd be surprised," Harry replied. "You may think it's stupid but anything that gets you upset like this is something I want to know about."

Ron regarded Harry for a moment, as if weighing up whether to trust him or not. "Harry, you've been dating Ginny for nearly two years," Ron told him.

"Two years come December," Harry agreed.

"And of course Neville is going out with Alea Reed," Ron continued. "Amos, Remus, my father, all married. Even Hermione is going on a lot of dates."

"And you're worried that you're not?" Harry finished for him, understanding.

Ron nodded. "When Lizzie started flirting with me I actually thought, for the first time, that a girl was taking an interest in me," Ron admitted. "To find out it was all an act, it hurt me more than it should."

There was silence as Ron finished talking, the two of them both reflecting on his words. Eventually, Harry spoke up.

"Maybe you're asking the wrong question," Harry suggested. "Maybe, instead of asking why don't girls like me, ask what can you do to get girls to like you."

"I don't understand," Ron replied.

Harry cleared his throat as he sat up straighter in his seat. "You know Remus is married to Nymphadora Tonks, right?" he asked, to which Ron nodded. "But you don't know the whole story."

"What's the whole story?"

"Well, Tonks is the daughter of Sirius's cousin Andromeda, who married a muggle called Ted Tonks," Harry told him. "When Tonks first tried to ask Remus out he said no. He told her he was too old, too poor and too werewolf for her and that she deserved better. Tonks kept asking and asking and asking but Remus wouldn't back down."

"So you're saying I've got to play hard to get?" Ron asked, frowning.

"No, you're thinking about this from the wrong side," Harry told him. "If Remus had got his way he would be sad and alone. You've got to be like Tonks; she tried again and again to get through to him and eventually she managed."

"So what should I do?" Ron asked.

"I'm not going to tell you who to date," Harry told him. "But, if you really want a date just, go to a bar, meet a girl and talk to her. She may not be the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, but if you never ask she never could be."

Ron smiled at Harry, a small smile that spoke of hope rather than happiness. "Thanks Harry," Ron said, standing up. "I'll do that. Tonight I'll go talk to a girl and ask her out, and if she says no…"

"Then pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move on," Harry told him as he paused. "There is going to be rejection sometimes but that isn't a sign for you to quit."

Ron nodded as a comfortable silence fell between them, the two old friends sitting in silence.

"You miss him, don't you?" Ron said suddenly.

"What?" Harry asked in surprise, having not expected Ron to speak.

"Sirius," Ron replied, knowing he was one of the few people in the world Harry would speak to on this. "It's coming up to that time of year."

"Of course I miss him," Harry sighed sadly, memories of his godfather rising to the surface. "I don't go a single day without thinking about him."

"You don't talk about him," Ron pointed out.

"He doesn't really come up in conversation," Harry replied. "I know it's been almost 13 years but sometimes I think the worst dishonour is to forget him now he's gone."

There was a knock on the office door as Colin stuck his head in. "Nevan McCoy is waiting for you in Meeting Room 3," Colin told Ron, to which Ron nodded.

"I'll be right there," Ron replied, signalling that Colin could go. As he did, Ron got to his feet and started stacking up some files, before turning to Harry. "I've got to go meet McCoy right now but I'll remember what you told me."

Harry nodded. "If I don't see you before you leave, good luck," he told Ron, who promptly left the office, leaving Harry alone, staring into the rain soaked window.

* * *

"Harry, the Minister is calling a meeting," Cho called into his office, prompting Harry to emerge.

"Alright, thanks Cho," he said as he placed a couple of forms on her desk. "Hey, is Ron in?" Harry asked Colin, noticing the closed office door.

"He's already left," Colin told him.

"Is the meeting urgent?" Harry asked Cho.

"They didn't say urgent," Cho replied.

Harry nodded. "No need to call him back then," Harry said to himself, walking away from his office. He strode through the corridors, noting how few people were still around, before reaching the Minister's outer office. Daphne was on the phone, so she just nodded him into the office, where Harry found the Minister with Amos, Remus and Neville.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"We just wanted to update you on our discussions with Downing Street," Remus said. "Is Ron still here?"

"No, he's left already," Harry told him.

"Hermione was getting ready to leave last time I saw her," Neville added. "She's unlikely to still be in the building."

"That doesn't matter," Amos waved away. "We'll just brief them in the morning. Now, the Minister met with Prime Minister Haywood earlier today…"

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the building Ron was trying to get up his courage. He'd returned home not long ago to get on his best shirt, along with his expensive cloak before coming back into the Ministry. Taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly, Ron started to move down the corridor and towards his target.

After just a few steps Ron was halted by the office door opening and Hermione stepping out, dressed in a beautiful black dress. Ron felt his heart stop for a moment as he took in her beauty, his blood rushing through his ears.

Before he could take another step someone else walked out the door. Ron froze as he took in Michael Corner, dressed in a sharp suit as he stepped after Hermione, offering out his arm which she took with a giggle. Together they walked away, not realising they'd been watched the whole time by a man who felt as though his world had just come crashing down around him.


	5. Intern

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Morning girls," Harry greeted as he walked into the office, not even waiting for a reply as he quickly moved out of sight.

"Does he always talk as though he doesn't actually want to talk to you?" Lizzie asked quietly as she sat by her makeshift desk, trying to find space on the small work surface for her files.

"Most of the time," Cho responded casually, her attention torn between the conversation and her notes. "He's a busy man. I should know, most of his work goes through me first."

"Most of it?" Lizzie asked.

"Well, for the really urgent things he just gets called to a meeting or one of the other senior staff comes to talk to him," Cho replied, leafing through some parchments as she spoke. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I know everything that goes on here."

"I won't," Lizzie promised.

"So, what was it you were saying?" Cho asked as Colin passed her another stack of parchments over the partition wall.

"Oh yeah," Lizzie said excitedly, remembering what she had been planning on saying. "I met a guy yesterday."

"Really?" Cho replied, looking up from her work interestedly. "Who was it? What was he like?"

"Well, he's not particularly tall," Lizzie said. "But neither am I. Dark hair, brown eyes, he's so polite. I couldn't stop blushing when he spoke to me."

"Where did you meet him?" Cho asked, smiling at the teenage girl beside her.

"In the Ministry," Lizzie replied. "I had all these files in my hands and he asked if I needed a hand carrying them."

"Does he work here?" Cho asked. "Maybe I know him."

"I don't know if you will," Lizzie said. "He's new here, he just got hired yesterday, actually."

Cho's eyes widened slightly as she started to put two and two together. "And his name is…?"

But Lizzie was no longer listening. Instead she was staring past Cho and watching as Dennis Creevey walked past them and approached Harry's office.

"That's him," she whispered quietly as Dennis knocked and entered the office. "What's he doing here?"

Cho cleared her throat softly, getting Lizzie's attention. "That's Dennis Creevey," Cho said. "The new Deputy Communications Director."

Lizzie went pale, her features terrified as she realised the truth. She stayed like that for several minutes, only reacting when Harry's office door opened again and he and Dennis stepped out.

"Ah, Lizzie," Harry said loudly. "I've got a job for you."

"Yes, sir," Lizzie squeaked quietly, causing Cho to stifle a grin.

"For the rest of your internship I think it would be a good idea to give you some first hand experience of the job," Harry told her. "This is Dennis, he's the new Deputy Communications Director. I want you to be his assistant."

Lizzie, if it was possible, turned even paler, which Harry seemed not to have noticed.

"Don't worry too much about the responsibility," he told her. "There won't be particularly much to do since this will be a new post, and if you do need any help you will always have Cho working right next to you."

Lizzie nodded stiffly, still reeling from the surprise that had been sprung on her.

"Dennis, I'll just show you to your office," Harry told him, leading him to an empty office just a couple of doors down from his own.

"Oh my god," Lizzie said to herself as she sat down. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

"Lizzie, calm down," Cho told her as Lizzie continued to chant under her breath, holding her face in her hands. "Just be yourself, it's not that bad."

"But it is that bad," Lizzie moaned. "It's not just that I flirted with him but if Harry finds out…"

"You are worried that he will think you're trying to suck up to him," Cho finished for her. "Like you did try with Harry."

"Yeah," Lizzie said miserably. "Wait, how did you…?"

"Lizzie," Cho said with a sigh. "I was there. You didn't exactly try to hide it."

Lizzie hung her head in shame. "I know," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have done that, and Harry's already chewed me out over it. But if he finds out I was flirting with Dennis just hours after he told me off for flirting with him…"

"Harry will understand the circumstances," Cho assured her, at which point Harry wandered out of Dennis' new office and back into his own. "Look, you want to fix things, just go introduce yourself to Dennis."

"What, no, I can't," Lizzie said. "I flirted with him and now he's my boss, I can't."

"Lizzie, everything will be fine," Cho assured her. "Just be professional when you talk to him, he's probably just as worried as you are right now. Either way, you're going to have to talk to him eventually."

Lizzie thought it over for a minute, before nodding. "Yes, yes, you're right, I'll do that," she said, standing up and brushing herself down in a business like fashion. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Cho said, smiling as she watched Lizzie work herself up before stepping into the office. Knocking on the office door, Lizzie caught Dennis' attention.

"Hello, I would just like to introduce myself, formally," Lizzie said, somewhat stiffly. "My name is Elizabeth Durand."

"I'm Dennis Creevey," Dennis replied, standing up behind his desk. "Do you prefer to be called Lizzie?"

"It's your choice but I do generally go by Lizzie," Lizzie responded, hands clasped tightly behind her back.

"Well, it's good to see you, Lizzie," Dennis said with a nervous smile. Lizzie was about to reply but she was cut off as Harry breezed past her, dropping a stack of parchment onto Dennis' clear desk.

"The Minister will be speaking at a fundraiser for magical children in Africa tomorrow," Harry informed Dennis. "Make it short and sweet, focus the emphasis on our wish to give all magical children the education they deserve and try not to mention the African Care Plan we managed to pass last year."

"Why?" Dennis asked.

"It was a disaster," Harry told him. "If we mention it we'll just give them doubts about our ability to actually help the children."

"Alright, got it," Dennis said. "Anything else?"

"We may or may not have the Minister speaking on a political talk show next week," Harry continued. "As you can imagine there will be lots of questions we'll need to make answers for if that goes through."

"So all hands on deck for that," Dennis agreed.

"If it happens," Harry warned. "Have the Africa speech on my desk by the end of the day and we'll find time to fine tune it before the Minister has to deliver it tomorrow evening."

"Will do," Dennis said as Harry made his way back out of the office, nodding to Lizzie as he passed. There was a couple of minutes silence as Dennis and Lizzie stood together, before Dennis broke it. "I'll just… get to this," he said, gesturing to the parchments on his desk.

Lizzie nodded. "I'll be just outside, if you need me," she replied, before turning and walking out the door.

* * *

"Where is he?" Harry bellowed as he slammed the door behind him, storming outside and fixing his glare on anyone in the immediate vicinity. "Is he in there?" He shouted, gesturing to Ron's office. It took only the slightest of nods from Colin for him to burst through the office door, slamming it shut behind him.

"What the hell, Ron?" Harry shouted, looking down at where Ron sat slouched behind his desk. "You're two hours late, do you realise how much work I've had to do to cover for you?"

Ron mumbled incoherently, holding his head with one hand while the other hand went scrambling through the drawers of his desk. Annoyed, Harry yanked open one of Ron's filing cabinets and reached in, retrieving a small vial of glowing green liquid.

Harry thumped it down forcefully in front of Ron who grasped hold if it as though his life depended on it. Popping off the cap Ron poured the potion down his throat with a single gulp, sighing in relief as the hangover cure came into immediate effect. Harry waited patiently until Ron had put the vial down again before rounding on him.

"What is wrong with you?" he said, his voice having calmed somewhat since his earlier outburst. "I've covered three meetings and another couple of phone calls whilst you've been away. What did you do to give yourself such a bad hangover?"

"I drank," Ron said simply, blinking rapidly to try to clear his blurry vision. "A lot."

"You realise girls aren't likely to talk to you when you're completely hammered," Harry pointed out. "Which club did you go to?"

"I didn't go to a club," Ron said shortly.

Harry frowned. "Then where did you drink? A pub?"

Ron shook his head. "I went home," he replied.

"You went home?" Harry repeated incredulously. "Why? What happened to trying to pick up a girl tonight, like you said you would?"

"I tried," Ron replied. "I failed."

"What?" Harry said before understanding hit him like a sledgehammer. "Hermione?"

Ron nodded dispiritedly, closing his eyes as though to block out the pain of remembering the event.

"What did she say?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Ron said, looking up at him with slightly bloodshot eyes, the potion still doing its work on him. "I hold one of the most important jobs in the Ministry of Magic. It's nearly lunch time and I've only just got in, what do you think she said?"

"She said no?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head hopelessly. "I didn't even ask her," he mumbled, head in his hands. "I was going to, I'd got all psyched up for it, and then I saw her leave her office." He sighed. "With Michael Corner."

"She's dating Michael?" Harry asked in surprise. "Are you sure that's what it is? It couldn't have just been a business meeting, or a friendly chat?"

Ron looked up and scowled. "I know what I saw, Harry," he told him bitterly. "And if you don't believe me, just ask Hermione."

Harry watched Ron helplessly as he put his head back into his hands, looking every bit the picture of a defeated man. Harry had no idea what to say to him, making it the first time he'd ever found himself without words in Ron's presence. In the end the only thing Harry could think to do was pretend nothing had happened.

"Your eleven o'clock will be a little late," Harry told him quietly. "They had difficulties travelling. And I've completed that report on France you needed for your 12:15, so you can look over that before then."

"Where is that?" Ron asked, pulling himself up off his desk and scanning the papers left there.

"The one next to your phone," Harry pointed out. "I've just gone through the basic bullet points you'd noted down, and added a section at the beginning to overview our recent relations with the French Ministry."

Ron nodded his head, reading over the report with no enthusiasm. Harry wanted to keep talking, to find something that might cheer him up, but he found there was nothing he could think of. Instead he simply turned around and left the office.

Closing the door behind him, Harry pondered what to do next. Weighing up the work he had waiting for him on his desk, Harry instead turned the other way and started walking down the corridor.

"Hey, Harry, wait," Neville called after him, hurrying down the corridor to catch up with him. "Have you spoken to anyone about the show we'll be doing in a week or so?"

"Wizarding Politics with Samuel York?" Harry asked as he slowed to let Neville catch him.

"No, no, I haven't heard anything about that one," Neville replied. "No, this is Charles Dane and Grace Brook."

"The daytime chat show?" Harry asked. "The Minister is going on 'Private Lives'? They wanted the Minister on 'Private Lives'?"

"Not exactly," Neville explained. "I think the idea is that various members of the Ministry go in and out on a special edition of the show where they talk about what it is like to work in the Ministry."

"When you say 'various members of the Ministry'…?" Harry tailed off, his expression growing worried.

"I mean us," Neville replied. "You, me, Amos, Ron, Hermione, maybe even Hannah and Cho. The people who are at the heart of the action everyday."

"But not the Minister?" Harry asked.

"They're still thinking about whether they want the Minister on air or not," Neville responded. "Personally I don't mind either way if the Minister gets involved in this."

"It's a bad idea," Harry said simply.

"What?" Neville questioned in surprise. "Why?"

"Why?" Harry repeated. "If this was a political show I could prepare answers in plenty of time, I could tell people what they can and cannot say and we might be able to get out of it without looking like idiots. But I can't go and brief Hermione about what to say on our foreign policy when I know without a shadow of a doubt that the first question is going to be about how she feels about working with so many men."

"Well," Neville responded uncertainly. "Write an answer for that."

"I could," Harry replied. "But there are about a million other things where I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Well, we don't need to worry about that," Neville told him. "Leave it unscripted."

"Yeah right," Harry responded. "You can't leave live national television unscripted, something bad will happen."

"Not for something like this," Neville responded. "You said it yourself, this isn't political. We're not going to be making policy gaffes or confessions on mistakes we've made when they are never going to ask about it."

"And on top of that," Neville continued, speaking right over Harry's objections. "The people who are going to be interviewed are smart people, Harry. We're not going to mess up in the face of inexperienced interviewers just because you haven't written down our words for us."

Harry was quiet as Neville finished speaking, his mind whirring through what he'd heard and screaming at him that it was wrong. "Ron won't agree with this," Harry told him. "He's the Political Strategy Director and he'll tell you why this is a bad idea."

"That's funny," Neville countered. "Cause I spoke about this with Ron yesterday. He said he thought it might be good for our public image." Neville looked at Harry, knowing he was about to start another argument. "Hey, if you really want to stop this just go talk to the Minister and try to convince him."

Harry had actually taken a step forward before his brain caught up with him. "You've already spoken to him on this, haven't you?"

Neville nodded. "He liked the idea, especially when I told him there was a big possibility that he wouldn't have to do it," Neville told him.

"Does everyone know?" Harry asked tiredly, wondering if this had been kept from him on purpose.

"Almost," Neville replied. "Amos and Remus know, as do many of the secretaries, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt." Harry's head shot up. "So he can arrange proper security," Neville explained. "I've just got Hermione to tell but she wasn't in when I went by her office this morning."

"I'll tell her," Harry said defeatedly. "I'm heading her way anyway."

"Good," Neville nodded, turning to walk away. "Just try to see the good side of this."

Harry watched as Neville walked away, barely conscious of his surroundings as he got lost in thought. He was eventually brought back to the presence as someone knocked his elbow as they passed, causing him to spring to life and march down the corridor.

He reached Hermione's office in no time, nodding to Demelza as he passed and entered the room with a knock on the door.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said brightly, sitting primly behind her desk with all her papers arranged into neat little piles. "What can I do for you?"

Harry surveyed her cheerfulness with a slightly amused look. "So I suppose your date went well last night," he said, taking the seat across from her with a knowing smile on his face.

"Why do you think I was on a date?" Hermione replied promptly, although the blush on her cheeks gave her away.

"The walls have ears," was Harry's cheeky reply. "But seriously, Michael Corner? When did that happen?"

"Just yesterday," Hermione replied. "I was still a bit upset about Tony and he noticed me in the cafeteria and asked me what was wrong. I told him and he asked me out on a date."

"Just like that?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Just like that," Hermione confirmed.

"You know I don't like to interfere in your private life," Harry said, his approach saying he was just about to. "But are you sure about dating Michael? I mean, your job is to trick him into reporting what we want and his job is to trick you into giving up important information for him to report on."

Hermione sighed sadly. "I know, I've thought about this," she said wearily. "I've thought about this a lot actually. I just think that, as long as we both keep our personal and work lives apart from each other, we'll be fine. Just like Neville and Alea."

Harry shrugged non-committed. "Well, that is easier said than done," he mumbled under his breath.

"What's up with you today?" Hermione frowned. "You've been a real downer, is everything alright?"

Harry immediately thought of lying, but found he didn't have the energy for it. "I've just been working too hard," he admitted. "Ron's been having a bit of a tough time today so I've been handling a lot of his work."

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Sorry, can't tell you that," Harry said with a sad smile. "This is Ron's thing, I can't go around telling other people."

"I understand," Hermione said sincerely, holding up her hand so Harry wouldn't say anything more. "Ron's secrets are his to share and keep as he so desires."

Harry nodded his thanks at her understanding. "I did actually have a reason for coming here," he informed her, straightening up in his seat.

"Apart from poking your nose into my private life?" Hermione joked, although she too sat up straighter at the idea of work to be done.

"Neville wants me to tell you we are planning on doing an interview with several members of the senior staff on a special edition of, wait for it, 'Private Lives'," Harry informed her heavily.

"What?" Hermione said in surprise. "Us?"

Harry nodded. "Us, our assistants, undoubtedly members of the Minister's family will get dragged in."

"That's a bad idea," Hermione told him.

"Good, then we agree," Harry said. "That's what I told Neville, but apparently he, Ron, Amos, Remus and the Minister all like the idea."

"We'll have to convince them otherwise," Hermione told him. "I'll call to arrange a meeting for us to discuss this properly."

Harry nodded. "Good, let me know when it is," he said as he moved to the door. "I've got a meeting in five minutes with Councillor Umbridge."

Hermione winced on his behalf. "Good luck."

"It's not luck I need," Harry said as he walked out the door. "A silencing charm would be useful though."

* * *

Harry let out a breath as he exited Meeting Room 3, closing his eyes and leaning against the door in order to recover from his ordeal. Knowing Umbridge would be coming out at any moment, Harry moved on, making his way through the corridors and back to his office.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked as he spotted Ron's open door and empty office.

"Meeting Room 2," Colin replied. "He should be finishing up soon."

Harry nodded as he made his way to his own office, opening his door and getting caught by surprise by what he found on the other side.

"Ginny," he said quietly, closing the door behind him and walking forward to take her in his arms. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," Ginny said sadly. "Colin called me about Ron."

"Have you seen him?" Harry asked. Ginny nodded. "How is he?"

"Bad," Ginny replied, shaking her head in disappointment. "I tried to get him to talk about it but I'm not even sure what the problem is."

"He wanted to ask Hermione out," Harry told her. "But Michael got there first." Ginny's lips parted in understanding. "It's all my fault."

"Harry, no," Ginny said as Harry tried to avoid her gaze. "How is this your fault?"

"I encouraged Ron to go for it," Harry said miserably. "Ron told me he was sad with girls never showing interest in him and I told him he should be more proactive."

"It's still not your fault," Ginny told him. "Your advice was good. You couldn't have known he was going to ask out Hermione, or that she would be going out with Michael."

Harry sighed. "I know, in theory," he said. "I just can't help but feel guilty about it."

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Harry said, loosening his hold on Ginny so he could turn to see the door. At his command Cho stepped inside, looking a bit sheepish for interrupting.

"The Minister is calling a meeting," Cho told Harry.

Harry nodded. "That'll be for the 'Private Lives' thing," he concluded. "Does Ron know?"

"Ron doesn't have to go, does he?" Ginny said anxiously.

"I'm afraid he does," Harry replied. "It's his job, we need his view on this." Harry turned back to Cho.

"Colin has gone looking for him," Cho informed him.

"Alright," Harry said, letting go of Ginny completely as he prepared to leave. "I'll be back when we're finished," he told her, kissing her briefly before sweeping out of the room.

"What's this about?" Neville asked as he fell into step beside Harry, mere seconds after Harry had left his office.

"The television interviews," Harry responded.

"Wait, you really are going to take this up with the Minister?" Neville asked incredulously. "The Minister thinks it's a good idea. He was one of the first to know about this."

"Well, Hermione doesn't think it's a good idea," Harry countered. "She raised many of the same issues I did and she was the one to call this meeting. Maybe if I was alone in being against this I would simply accept my defeat but I'm not."

"How long did it take you to convince Hermione?" Neville asked witheringly.

Harry stopped walking as they reached the entrance of the Minister's outer office. "Come on, Neville," Harry said scathingly. "You know me better than that."

"Just go right ahead," Daphne told them as Harry led Neville through, the office door wide open and already showing the rest of the senior staff.

"Great, now we're all here, why are we calling this meeting?" the Minister asked, sitting behind his desk.

"Minister, we think that this 'Private Lives' interview is a bad idea," Hermione said promptly as Harry came to stand beside her in support. "We think that this is just a disaster waiting to happen."

"Go on," the Minister encouraged, listening carefully.

"We can't script something like this," Hermione told them. "We are just opening ourselves up to allowing someone without much media experience to be given a tricky question to trip them up."

"So we'll only put on our media savvy employees," the Minister replied. "You and Harry will go on, as will Demelza. The three of you will be able to handle anything that comes your way."

"The producers won't settle for that," Harry pointed out. "They don't want the people we normally put on TV, they want the dirt so they go for the people behind the scenes."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "Everyone who works at the Ministry is smart, but what would happen if, say, Ron was on and they gave him a question about Harry and Ginny."

"Thanks for the confidence," Ron said, glowering at Hermione.

"That's not what I mean," Hermione replied, getting slightly irritated. "I'm saying these people love scandals and they'll ask the question again and again, phrased in different ways until they get a juicy piece of gossip by some mis-phrasing on our part."

"The Harry-Ginny scandal has already been blown into the public vision," Neville said. "In truth we don't really have anything else scandal worthy."

"They have you dating a Warlock from the Wizengamot," Harry pointed out. "We can see that you keep your personal and professional lives apart but the public can't see that, they could blow it up into a big thing."

"Likewise with Hermione and Michael," Remus agreed, catching onto the idea and completely missing the way Ron tensed up. "We've got a couple of potential scandal worthy stories in here at the moment."

"But they are not really scandals," Neville pointed out. "They are all above board, we just need to play it right."

"I agree with Neville," the Minister said. "We might have a couple of problems but I think the possible increase in public support is worth the potential slip ups. We'll have everyone scheduled to appear talk first with Harry and Hermione about what they can and cannot say, and you can give them various presentation tips as well." The Minister stopped talking and watched as his Senior Staff just stood around. "Well, on you go," he encouraged, prompting a mass exodus from his office.

Harry didn't return immediately to his office, instead silently following Hermione to her office, not conversing with her until they were inside with the door closed.

"This is a bad idea," Hermione told him as she walked around her desk.

"I know," Harry replied, standing before her.

"Someone's going to say something they shouldn't and it's going to blow up into a big thing," Hermione ranted as she sat in her chair. "Then I'll have to deal with it," she moaned, putting her head into her hands.

"It might not be too bad," Harry hedged, bringing her attention to him. "The Minister said everyone who goes on the programme will have to go through us. We just need to be very strict on what can be said."

Hermione took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she calmed herself. "You're right," she admitted. "Between us we can cover everything that might come up. I'm just surprised Ron wasn't just as against this as we were."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I have to get back to my office," Harry told her, gesturing to the door. "I just wanted to apologise on Ron's behalf before I go."

"You can't tell me what his problem is?" Hermione asked. "Maybe I could help."

"Sorry, it's not my place to say," Harry replied. "I just want to speak on Ron's behalf until he's back to normal."

"Okay," Hermione said. "I'll stay out of his way until then."

Harry nodded his thanks before leaving her office, walking through the corridors until he was back outside his office. Seeing Ron's door open Harry walked in, arriving to see Ginny sitting with him, talking quietly to him in a very one sided conversation.

"Hey," Ron said glumly as Harry walked in.

Harry nodded in response and sat down across from him as Ginny continued from where she'd left off.

"I know how you must be feeling, Ron," she said softly. "We've all been there before, and I know it can seem as though no one else could understand but if you just talk to us we can help you, and that will make you feel better just on its own."

Ron said nothing, not even acknowledging Ginny's presence as he played with a quill that had been sitting on his desk. While Ginny seemed ready to wait for a response, Harry knew this wasn't getting anywhere fast.

"When did Neville talk to you about the programme?" Harry asked out of the blue, bringing Ron's attention to him.

"Harry," Ginny said in a warning voice but Ron just talked over her.

"Yesterday," he mumbled.

"You weren't going to tell me?" Harry pressed, ignoring Ginny's warning glare.

"Neville only came to me with it as an idea," Ron explained. "It just slipped my mind since we didn't have any definite facts-"

"Harry, could I talk to you outside for a minute?" Ginny said, her tone firm as she fixed him with a hard look. Harry looked at her and knew better than to argue, instead nodding to Ron and leading Ginny out of the office.

"Harry, I'm trying to get Ron to open up about this," Ginny told him vehemently. "Why are you bringing up work?"

"I just-" Harry stopped speaking suddenly as an aide walked past. Glancing around at the busy work stations, Harry gestured for Ginny to enter his office. Following behind her, Harry made sure his office door was closed before he started speaking.

"I'm not saying what you are doing is wrong," Harry told her, trying to keep his voice low to head off an argument. "I'm just saying that it isn't working at the moment."

"Which is all the more reason to press on with this method," Ginny replied hotly. "Ron needs to properly think about his feelings and not be distracted by work."

"I understand what you're saying but when we're talking about work is the most reaction we've been able to get out of him," Harry argued. "We can try and get him to open up and talk about his feelings later but right now he's the Political Strategy Director and he's got work to do."

"He's in no fit shape to work," Ginny retorted. "Anyone meeting with him will know something is wrong with him."

"Well, let them think that," Harry replied. "Because he's got to meet with these people because otherwise I have to meet with these people myself."

"Then why don't you?" Ginny shot back, her voice rising. "Why don't you meet them? Your best friend is in the middle of a crisis and all you can talk about is getting him back to doing his job. When was it that your workload became more of a priority than Ron's wellbeing?"

"When I had to do the work of two of the most important offices in this country," Harry shouted back. "Ron's work isn't just some random stuff that anyone can do. There's a reason we have so many assistants around and its because we need all the help we can get."

"Well then use your assistant," Ginny shouted back. "Use Cho, use Colin, heck use that intern you've got out there."

"I already am," Harry retorted. "Ginny, for this entire day I've been juggling two ridiculously demanding jobs at the same time as trying to make my best friend feel better and apologising to the rest of my colleagues for his behaviour. I'm doing everything I can to cover for him but now I'm at the end of my ability to help."

"I don't believe that," Ginny argued back. "I think what you are really doing is juggling two jobs whilst trying to convince your best friend to get back to work just so you don't have to work as hard."

"Oh, you're way of base," Harry said angrily. "It's easy for you, isn't it, to just come in here and just try and sweet talk him, never mind that it isn't working. Do you even understand what I've been going through today?"

"There it is again, all about you," Ginny shouted, taking an aggressive step closer to him. "Not even thinking about Ron, not even thinking about the sacrifices I've had to make to help him. Do you have any idea how hard my bosses are going to come down on me for leaving work?"

"I have a fair idea," Harry said hotly. "And it will be a lot easier to handle than if I continue to work both jobs and make a mistake because I can't pay enough attention to what I'm doing. This is the Ministry, I can't take a break to help my friend no matter how much I may want to."

"So that's it then," Ginny retorted. "This job is more important than your friend."

"This job is more important than anyone," Harry shouted back. There was a knock on the door as Cho timidly stepped inside.

"Harry, Amos would like to see you," Cho told him quietly.

"In a minute," Harry replied, eyes still fixed on Ginny.

"And the staffer report is ready for storage," Cho said, raising the document up slightly.

"In a minute!" Harry shouted, still not taking his eyes off Ginny.

Ginny stared at him, the fire in her eyes dimming slightly as she started to regain some common sense. "Go," she said coldly. "We're done here."

Harry stared at her for a few seconds longer, anger still pumping through his veins. With a snarl, Harry turned and stormed out his office, ripping the papers from Cho's grip as he passed. Walking down the corridor people scattered as he approached, his aura scaring them out of his way easily as he stormed over to the store room.

Wrenching open the door, Harry was shocked by the sight before him. Dennis and Lizzie were inside, locked in a tight embrace, which they broke in surprise as they heard the door open, their expressions caught between guilt and fear.

Harry stood for a second, frozen in the doorway as he took in the sight before him. Suddenly, as though a switch had been flipped inside his brain, Harry slammed the door shut and started to stride angrily down the corridor.

"Harry! Harry, wait!" Dennis shouted as he chased after him, trying to catch up. "Harry, just let me explain."

"Not now," Harry replied shortly, stopping just outside Amos' outer office. "I will talk to you about this, believe me, but not now. I've got a meeting."

With that he turned away, leaving behind a pale and shaky Dennis. Harry walked straight past Luna without greeting her and strode straight into Amos's office, not even bothering to knock on his door.

"Excuse me," Amos said sternly, standing up as Harry strode over to the desk. "This is my office, it is only polite of you to knock before walking in."

"I'm sorry," Harry said disparagingly. "I was just under the impression you wanted to talk to me."

"I did," Amos replied. "But not while you're in this mood. Calm down and then come back and see me."

"Come back," Harry complained as Amos sank back in his seat. "You drag me out to your office just to tell me to come back later?"

"You are clearly in no state to talk about anything important," Amos informed him calmly, although a tic was starting to develop at his temple. "It would be in the best interests of everyone involved if you returned to your office and sorted out whatever it is that's got you so wound up."

"Alright fine, I'm a little wound up," Harry admitted. "Now, will you tell me what you wanted to speak to me about?"

"No," Amos replied. "You can't just say you are ready to listen, I can see you're bothered by something. What's making you so mad?"

"What's making me mad?!" Harry asked in amazement. "Perhaps being called over here for a bullshit meeting is what's making me mad! Perhaps being stopped from doing my job by some holier-than-thou idiot is what's making me mad! I don't know Amos, does that sound like that would get me mad?!"

"Harry."

Harry stopped, panting as he turned to see the Minister standing by the door, a look of shock and disappointment on his face. And in that moment all the anger and resentment flooded out of his body, leaving behind only the terrible realisation of how he was acting.

"Oh my god," he said quietly, his eyes widening, his face pale. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry," he said, turning to Amos. "I didn't mean what I said. I shouldn't have acted like that."

"Harry," Amos said softly.

"No, I can't believe I just did that," Harry continued, the confessions pouring out of him in an incoherent jumble. "I should have listened to you. I'm sorry, I just don't understand what-"

"Harry," the Minister said from beside him, causing him to immediately shut up. "What's the matter?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry sir, I can't tell you," he said apologetically, hating how feeble he sounded. "They aren't my problems to share."

"Okay," the Minister said softly. "Well then, don't worry about it. Talk to the people involved and try to resolve whatever's wrong."

"I can't," Harry said. "I've got so much work to do, I just don't have the time."

"Pass the work to Dennis," the Minister said.

"I can't," Harry said again. "Dennis, he's… well, he's part of the problem."

"I see," the Minister said understandingly. "And given the way Ron was acting earlier he's involved in this too?" Harry nodded.

"Send the work to me," Amos told him, surprising Harry. "I'll delegate it out to the other senior staff, unless of course they are involved as well?"

Harry shook his head. "Just those two."

Amos nodded. "Well, go fix things with Dennis and Ron and then take the rest of the day off," he told him.

Harry thought to argue but truthfully didn't have the energy to do so. Instead he nodded mutely and turned away to the door. "I am really sorry," he said, his eyes begging for Amos to understand.

"I know," Amos replied. Harry cast his eyes down to the floor as he silently left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"You alright?" asked the Minister as he took the seat across from Amos, relaxing into it as he fixed his gaze on his old friend.

"I'm okay," Amos replied.

"No, you're not," the Minister told him. "If you were okay you would have forgiven him."

"I do forgive him," Amos said.

"I know," the Minister replied. "But Harry doesn't. You never told him. And it was deliberate. Somewhere inside there is a part of you that wants to see Harry punished for what he just did to you."

"You think he doesn't deserve to be punished?" Amos asked, looking to his friend for answers.

"Amos," the Minister said. "You know how busy Harry is; that's why you told him to hire a Deputy." Amos grunted a sound of agreement at that. "Just think about the pressure Harry must have been under today," the Minister pointed out. "His deputy still needs near constant supervision and I'm sure he's been covering Ron's workload all day."

"I know what you're saying," Amos told him. "I agree with what you're saying but it's hard to just ignore what happened here."

"Amos, Harry's just a kid," the Minister said. "He's had a ridiculous burden put on his shoulders, is it any surprise he lashed out. I know you like to hold grudges sometimes but don't do it now. Please forgive Harry."

Amos sighed as he watched the Minister leaning forward in his seat as he spoke. "You're a really big fan of this kid," he said.

"So are you," the Minister pointed out.

"He's not dating my daughter," Amos replied.

The Minister chuckled. "True," he said, his eyes crinkling with his smile. "But I've learnt a lot about Harry since we first started the election campaign. He's a good kid."

Amos nodded. "That's true."

* * *

Harry wandered back to his office slowly, dreading the conversations he knew he had to have. The corridors were nearly deserted at this time of the evening but those who were still there gave Harry nervous glances as he passed.

"The report from HR is here, Harry," Cho informed him as he arrived at her workstation, offering him the file and thankfully acting normally around him despite his earlier outburst.

"Send it over to Luna," Harry told her quietly, fingering the small stack of papers that still stood on Cho's desk. "We're sending the rest of our work today to Amos."

"Our work?" Cho asked.

"And Ron's," Harry added. "And Dennis's too, come to think of it." He glanced around, noting his empty office as well as the closed door to Ron's. "Is Ron still in?"

Cho shook her head. "He left for the day not long after you last saw him," Cho informed him.

"And Ginny?" Harry asked. "I'm assuming she left not long after I stormed out of here." Cho nodded, prompting a sigh from Harry. "Is Dennis in his office?"

"Yes," Cho nodded. "In fact he asked me to tell him when you got back."

"Don't bother," Harry brushed it off. "I'm going to speak with him now. Just, pass on all the files, everything, to Luna, and go home and get some rest."

"Alright," Cho replied, placing the file she'd been holding out to him on top of the pile on her desk. "Thank you. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Cho," Harry replied, walking round her workstation so he could get to Dennis' office, noting the nervous way he was sitting behind his desk through the glass wall next to the door.

Harry knocked on the door, causing Dennis' head to shoot up. "May I come in?" Harry asked, refraining from simply walking in.

"Please," Dennis replied, getting to his feet to greet him. "I'm so glad I've got the chance to speak to you today. I just want you to know what you saw wasn't what it looked like."

"I think it was exactly what it looked like," Harry replied. "Dennis, please," he said, lifting his hand to cut of a reply. "Let me speak."

Harry took his time, closing the door behind him and wandering up to Dennis's desk, taking the seat across from him and gesturing for Dennis to sit down. Harry waited patiently until Dennis was seated, before he started to speak.

"Who you like, and who you date, is none of my business," Harry told him simply. "I know you didn't just find you had a pretty assistant and decided to put the moves on her, but even if you did I have no right to say you can't."

"But, she's my assistant," Dennis said. "That's just something you can't do. And she's only 18 years old."

"You're 25," Harry pointed out. "In about ten years time the age difference will seem like nothing."

"Yes, in ten years," Dennis repeated. "Right now that's not right. I left Hogwarts eight years ago and she only just received her NEWT's this summer."

"Are you really worried about this?" Harry asked. "Or are you really worried about what other people might think about this?"

Dennis sighed as he thought about it, rubbing his head. "It matters what I do, now," Dennis replied tiredly. "Now that I'm working here I'm a representative of the Ministry. There's a standard I have to meet and this is just…" Dennis sighed again. "This is just not something people are going to like."

"So what, screw the people," Harry replied, much to Dennis surprise.

"What?" he replied.

"Screw them, why should they decide what you should be allowed to do?" Harry said. "Your personal life is private, you can do what you want. As long as it doesn't interfere with your work I don't mind if you date Lizzie."

"Are you sure?" Dennis asked nervously.

"Of course," Harry replied. "You're a guy, she's a girl. You're both young and attracted to each other. If you want to date then that's your choice, and don't think I'm going to judge you for it. Don't think that my views on this matter at all."

"Alright," Dennis said, thinking. "Okay, I will. Thank you, Harry."

"No problem," Harry waved him off. "Cho's sending all our work to Amos so you can get out of here once you're all sorted." Harry walked over to the door as he spoke, opening it as he prepared to leave. "See you tomorrow."

* * *

Harry stood silently outside the door for a minute, the drizzling rain not quite registering on him as he took his time. He reached his finger up to the intercom system, stopping briefly on Ginny's name before moving to the one above, pressing down firmly.

"Hello?" A voice spoke, a woman answering his call.

"Hello, Mrs Peterson," Harry spoke. "It's Harry, can you let me in please?"

"Of course, Harry," Mrs Peterson replied happily. "But I just saw Ginny come in, why couldn't she let you in?"

"I want to surprise her," Harry replied.

Mrs Peterson chuckled. "And they say romance is dead," she said cheerfully. "Alright, I'll let you in." The door buzzed as the security lock was released.

"Thank you," Harry said as he pushed against the door, which opened easily at his touch, quickly swinging shut behind him and buzzing as it locked again.

Ginny's building wasn't particularly fancy, something she had been unwilling to negotiate on when her father had become Minister. Instead of moving her to a new flat she'd been allowed to stay in the same building she'd lived in since she'd graduated Hogwarts. The difference now was that every person to come and go was strictly monitored by the best security the Ministry had to offer.

Harry jogged slowly up the stairs, passing numerous doors on his way to number 6 on the second floor. Reaching said floor, Harry glanced briefly at number 5, well aware that the current tennant was actually an undercover auror, assigned to Ginny's protection when she was in the building. Harry knew for a fact that his face was being run through magical recognition as he walked, determining the authenticity of his rights to visit.

Reaching the door with nothing untoward happening, Harry took a moment to steady himself before knocking. It was a long time that Harry stood waiting, but eventually the door creaked open.

"Hey," Harry said as Ginny came into sight, wearing his old quidditch jumper and the pyjama shorts she usually wore to bed.

"Hey," Ginny replied, opening the door further. "Come in," she said, moving away from the door to allow him to step inside.

"Thank you," Harry said, encouraged by her invitation inside. He stepped in and closed the door softly behind him, before turning to face Ginny, who was waiting for him patiently to turn around.

"Ginny, I'd like to apologise for what I said today," he spoke quietly. "I was just working so hard that I was, in a way, more interested in getting Ron back to work than really helping him. I was… frustrated, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Harry," Ginny said softly. "You don't have to apologise."

"I don't," Harry said in surprise. "I shouted at you, and you were right."

"No, you don't," Ginny said. "And maybe I wasn't right, maybe Ron does just need to get back to normal. It's actually me who has to apologise."

Harry blinked in surprise, but remained quiet, allowing Ginny to explain herself.

"I forgot just what it is you have to do everyday," Ginny replied. "I've become so used to visiting you at work and seeing you and Ron joking around that I've forgotten how hard you guys do actually work. Thinking about it now, I understand why you were so stressed."

"So, we're both sorry," Harry said tentatively. "I forgive you. Can you forgive me?"

Ginny smiled at him, unable to stop herself from laughing at his cuteness. "Yes, I forgive you," she said, stepping forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Come with me," she whispered to him, pulling off his cloak.

Harry followed her into the bedroom, his shoes left at the door as he pulled his tie off and untucked his shirt. Ginny led him into bed, where she curled up in his arms, Harry holding her close as he whispered soft, loving words in her ear as they rested together for the night.

* * *

Harry walked briskly through the corridors, his mind split between his work and the gnawing feeling he felt troubling him as he continued to miss out on talking to Ron. Ron hadn't been in his office when Harry arrived that morning, nor had he been there after Harry had returned from his meeting with Hermione. Yet Colin assured him that Ron had come in for work that day.

"Neville left a message," Cho told him as he walked passed. "There is another meeting with the goblins this afternoon, Meeting Room 1 as usual."

Harry nodded, walking into his office and picking up a report from his desk, having been halfway through it when called away for his last meeting. Reaching the end of a paragraph he looked up as he heard a knock on his door.

"Lizzie," Harry greeted, glancing up at her. "What can I do for you?"

Lizzie seemed nervous, wringing her hands as she looked anywhere but at him. "I'm sorry to bother you," she started. "I just wanted-" She was cut off by Harry's phone ringing.

Instead of answering it, Harry glanced past Lizzie and out to the workstations beyond, his eyes spying Colin with his ear to the phone, giving Harry a meaningful look. The phone stopped ringing as Colin hung up, giving Harry the final confirmation of what was happening.

"Sorry, Lizzie," he said, walking round his desk and squeezing past her. "I've got to take this." He made the short distance to Ron's office, noting how Ron had left the door wide open when he'd entered. "Ron."

"Hey, Harry," Ron replied, looking up from behind his desk as he took a sip from his mug. "I was wondering when you'd find me."

"You've been hiding from me?" Harry asked, walking into the room and standing behind the chair sitting before Ron's desk. "I came to apologise."

Ron stared at him, looking completely non-plussed. "Okay, what for?" he asked, frowning at him in confusion.

"For the way I was acting yesterday," Harry replied.

"You mean your fight with Ginny?" Harry stared at him. "I heard you," Ron explained. "The walls are pretty thin and they don't have silencing charms either."

Harry nodded in understanding, biting his lip nervously. "Do you forgive me?"

Ron looked at him for a second. "Did you apologise to Ginny?" He asked, to which Harry nodded. "Did she forgive you?" Harry nodded again. "Then you've got nothing to apologise for," Ron concluded.

"How do you figure that?" Harry asked. "All day I was badgering you to work when I should have been doing what Ginny was, getting you to talk to me."

"Who knows what you really should have done?" Ron said rhetorically. "It isn't like I come with a manual. And for what it's worth I am grateful to both of you for what you've done for me." There was a moments silence as the words settled in the room, an understanding passing between the two friends.

Ron sat forward in his seat and sighed. "Now it's my turn to apologise."

"No, Ron, you don't-" Harry tried to stop him but Ron just spoke over him, looking determined to say his part.

"I'm sorry," he started. "I know I had some of my greatest hopes and dreams crushed when I found out," Ron said, wincing as though his brutally honest words physically pained him. "But I'm also 28, I am the Political Strategy Director for the Minister of Magic. I should be handling this better. Or at least well enough to continue to do my job."

"Ron, no one blames you for this," Harry told him.

"I know," Ron replied. "That's why I have to blame myself." He paused, the corner of his lips twitching at the thought. "It was when I heard you and Ginny argue that I started to realise it," he began. "I was contaminated, my sorrow was rubbing off on the people around me and ruining their lives too."

Ron looked Harry straight in the eyes, sincerity shining through them. "I don't want to be the reason the two of you fight," he said quietly. "So I'm not going to be."

"So," Harry replied softly. "You're good?"

Ron shook his head. "I'm better," he replied. "I'm okay, but I'm not good. Perhaps one day I'll be adult enough to be happy for them. But for now," he paused. "For now I think it's enough that I'm okay."

Harry smiled at his friend as they settled back into a comfortable silence, with only the patter of rain on the window to be heard.

"Damn that window is annoying," Ron cursed. "Do you have any idea how depressing it is for it to be raining every time you look out your window?"

Harry laughed. "Ask that to anyone in Glasgow and they'll say yes," Harry joked. "Why don't you get it fixed?"

Ron shrugged. "Magical Maintenance don't like me," he replied, getting to his feet. "I've got more important things to do than argue with them over my window."

"Have you got a meeting now?" Harry asked as he watched Ron pull himself together.

"Nope," Ron replied.

"Then," Harry frowned. "Where are you going?"

Ron didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to walk round his desk and walk to his office door before turning back. "You aren't the only person I need to apologise to."

"Hey," Harry said, stopping Ron as he moved to leave his office. "Ginny and I were thinking of watching the Cannons versus the Falcons tonight, if you were interested."

"Thanks," Ron replied. "But don't let me intrude on you two."

"Oh, come on Ron," Harry replied, grinning. "It's the Cannons. And who knows, maybe they'll actually score this time."

Despite himself Ron couldn't help but smile at the good natured ribbing. "Alright, Harry, you've got me," he told him. "You just make sure there is plenty of beer left when I get there."

"Will do," Harry replied as Ron walked out of the room. Harry wandered out after him slowly, watching him go with a small feeling of hope in his chest. Walking back to his own office, Harry was surprised to find it still occupied.

"Hey Lizzie," Harry said, walking back behind his desk and taking a seat. "I forgot you were here. You wanted to say something?"

Lizzie nodded, clearing her throat as though preparing to give him a speech. "Yes," she said. "Since it's my last day as your intern I would like to take the opportunity to thank you for the opportunity."

Harry nodded. "No problem," he replied. "Although you should really be thanking Cho."

"I will," Lizzie replied earnestly. "I just wanted to apologise for everything I've done. I know what you must think of me but that's not really what I'm like. I just wanted to apologise for letting you down."

Harry nodded again. "So I suppose you are also here to ask for a recommendation?" Harry guessed.

"Well, yes sir," Lizzie said, flushing horribly. "But I'd completely understand if you weren't willing to give me one."

"Good," Harry replied. "Because I'm not going to give you one."

Lizzie had been prepared for him to say that, but it still hurt just the same. "Yes, sir," she said thickly, trying to hold back tears.

"Do you want to know why I won't give you a recommendation?" Harry asked, not waiting for an answer from the emotional girl before him. "I don't want you working somewhere else, because I want you to continue working here."

Lizzie blinked, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Excuse me," she said faintly. "You are offering me a job?"

"Well, if you don't want it…" Harry shrugged, secretly enjoying himself.

"No, no, I want it," Lizzie said desperately as Harry chuckled. "I just wanted to ask why you're willing to offer me a job? I mean, after what I did…"

"You apologised," Harry replied. "I accepted that you were sorry for sucking up to me and Ron."

"But, Dennis," Lizzie replied.

"Were you sucking up to Dennis?" Harry asked. "No, I thought not," Harry added as she shook her head. "You said you wouldn't do that and you stayed true to that promise."

"But I," Lizzie started before stopping herself. "How can you be so sure?"

Harry took a second to respond, watching as Lizzie stood nervously before him. "I saw you meet for the first time," he told her. "And not when I introduced you, before that." Harry moved around his desk and sat on top of it so he was closer to the girl. "Lizzie, you are attracted to Dennis for what Dennis is as a person. That's not sucking up, that's honest to god real emotion. What you and Dennis do in your free time is none of my business, okay?"

"But," Lizzie questioned. "You're hiring me for the role of his assistant, aren't you?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Which I believe you will be able to do very well, especially once Cho really has a chance to show you the ropes. As long as you make sure any potential relationship you may have with Dennis doesn't affect your work, I'm fine."

"Now, why don't you go to that box you've been sticking things into all morning and unpack it," Harry suggested. "You're here to stay."

Lizzie smiled broadly at him, her entire face seeming to light up as she skipped out of the office, leaving behind a slightly bemused Harry.

* * *

Ron stood patiently as he hovered by the office door, waiting for the meeting inside to finish. A few meters away Demelza worked, glancing curiously up at him every few seconds. After about five minutes of waiting the door eventually opened and Ron had to move swiftly aside as a very large man strode past, taking up most of the corridor with his incredible girth.

Walking into the office quietly, Ron took a moment to watch Hermione work before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, having jumped in surprise at hearing him. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

"No, no, don't worry about it," Ron said hastily. "I just wondered if you had a minute to talk about something."

"Sure, what's going on?" Hermione asked attentively, leaning forward on her desk to listen.

"Well, nothing really," Ron replied nervously. "I really just wanted to tell you something… and apologise."

"Apologise?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Yes, apologise," Ron responded. "Yesterday I was in a bit of a bad place and when we were meeting in the Minister's office I sort of… snapped, at you. I just came to say I'm sorry and that it won't happen again."

"Alright," Hermione replied, still not sure what was going on. "It's no problem, I understand. Harry told me you were going through some stuff."

Ron froze momentarily, before realising that Harry couldn't have told her everything. "Yes, well," he replied. "It's still no reason to talk to you like that. You deserve better than that, especially from me. And if I'm ever mean to you again-"

"I'll know you're back to normal," Hermione finished, remembering a similar conversation they'd had back in their school days. Ron smiled slightly at the reminder, having not really thought about their time at Hogwarts since they'd first met up again for the election campaign.

"You really can't tell me what the problem is?" Hermione asked sadly.

Ron shook his head. "I wish I could," he said. "But I can't, this is something I have to deal with on my own."

"I could help," Hermione pressed.

"I'm sure you could," Ron smiled back. "But I wouldn't want to put you in a position where you felt you had to. Don't worry, I'm coping, things are getting better."

"Good," Hermione replied, returning his smile. "I was thinking, we don't seem to have anything big going on today, do you want to do something tonight?"

"Really?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Hermione replied. "You, me and Harry, we could have dinner or something."

Ron tried not to let his disappointment show, instead turning a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, Harry and Ginny have invited me to come watch the match with them tonight," Ron said. "I know you don't really like Quidditch but we could have dinner as well, make an evening of it."

"That would be great," Hermione beamed at him. "As long as Harry and Ginny don't mind."

"They won't, but I'll ask anyway," Ron said, knowing Hermione always wanted to make sure she wasn't intruding.

"Great," Hermione said, standing up with a bit of a spring in her step. "Now, I apologise but I've got to go, I've got a press conference to get to."

"Don't let me keep you," Ron replied. "See you tonight."

Ron left the office with a slight smile on his face, glad that, despite everything, it seemed like he and Hermione would be okay. Walking back to his office he made it several steps inside before he noticed something different.

"Hey," Harry said as he walked in behind him, smiling at his surprised expression.

"My window," Ron said speechlessly, gazing out at the sunny meadow that was being shown through it. "You fixed it?"

"Actually it was Magical Maintenance who fixed it," Harry replied, watching Ron with amusement. "It turns out that they weren't actually aware it was broken until I called them."

"You called them?" Ron asked in surprise.

Harry shrugged. "I was getting tired of you complaining about it all the time," he joked.

"Alright, that's enough out of you," Ron replied in mock annoyance, a small smile growing on his face. "What are you doing here? Wait, how did you even know I was back?"

"Colin has been keeping tabs on you for me," Harry answered, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder towards the outer workspace.

"Remind me to find some extra work for Colin to do tonight," Ron said darkly, glaring at the back of an oblivious Colin's head. "What are you doing here?"

Harry shrugged, idly playing with a quill on Ron's desk. "I just wanted to see your reaction to this," he said, before turning back to face him. "It's good to have you back, Ron."

Ron smiled, his first true smile of the last couple of days. "It's good to be back."


	6. Charlie

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Did you finish the redraft?" Harry asked, screwing back on the cap of the bottle of Diet Coke on the table before him.

"I had Cho put it on your desk before I came here," Dennis replied from directly across the table, taking a break from devouring his sandwiches to answer. "I left the end as it was since you seemed to like it but I have changed the second last paragraph a bit to try and get a proper buildup for the conclusion."

Harry nodded in reply as Ron and Hermione came to the table, Ron sitting next to Harry with Hermione next to Dennis.

"So you see, the Seeker has to be involved in his team's build up play," Ron explained to a slightly bored and confused Hermione. "The chance of catching the snitch early enough to make up for the lack of help for the chasers is very low."

"I think I understand the idea," Hermione said slowly, finding it difficult to deal with something she just couldn't get her head around. "What you're saying is that the snitch is actually too difficult to find for a quick enough capture."

"Exactly," Ron agreed. "Occasionally a seeker will catch the snitch within the first twenty minutes but that's really uncommon, even for the best seekers. It's due to luck mostly."

"Not to mention that the snitch is designed to be more evasive in the first hour of the game," Harry added.

"Wait, is that true?" Dennis asked in surprise. "Does the snitch actually get easier to catch the longer games are played?"

"Yeah," Ron replied. "It's a pretty recent thing that most people weren't really told about. The whole idea is that eventually the snitch will be so easy to catch that even a rubbish seeker could manage."

"Thereby preventing day long games," Harry explained to Hermione and Dennis.

"Was that ever really an issue?" Hermione asked.

"Have you ever heard about the 1456 Quidditch World Cup Final?" Ron responded. "Seven days it took before the snitch was caught. Then everyone got pissed at the Norwegian Seeker for catching the snitch after the teams had decided to finish for the day."

"Did that count?" Dennis asked.

"Yes," Ron replied. "The break was unofficial, as Quidditch is a game with only short timeouts that will only finish when the snitch is caught. Arne Ostberg, the Norwegian Seeker, sneaked back out when everyone had gone to bed and caught the snitch. The referee didn't even find out until the next morning."

"They actually decided to introduce these new snitches after the end of the regular season six years ago," Harry told them. "It was a race for the title between the Kenmore Kestrels and the Ballycastle Bats. The Bats won their game but needed Kenmore to lose to the Wasps by over two hundred points. They had to wait over four days to eventually find out they'd lost the title after the Kestrels won by fifty. I remember the final score was well into the thousands."

"The injury count was almost as high," Ron added. "The players got so tired that they kept on getting hit by Bludgers. There were only nine players left on the field by the time it was finished, even after all the substitutes came on."

"Wow," Hermione said, slightly impressed. "Ron, do you realise how much you could do if you applied your attention to Quidditch to your work?"

Ron shrugged. "I get by as is," he replied nonchalantly. "And everyone needs a hobby. Thank you," he said as a waitress brought him his bacon roll, also placing a ham and cheese panini in front of Harry before she walked away.

"That's another thing," Hermione said as Harry and Ron started eating. "Why are we meeting here?"

"To get away from Neville," Harry replied thickly. "He's been trying to rope everyone into organising the 'Private Lives' interviews this afternoon."

"So we're hiding from him," Hermione concluded. Harry nodded, smiling at her slightly perplexed expression. "What about you, Ron? I thought you agreed with the idea of having the interview?"

Ron took his time to swallow the bite he'd taken out of his roll before responding. "Yeah, I agreed," he said casually. "But that doesn't mean I want to help set it all up."

"And Amos and Remus?" Hermione questioned.

"In a meeting with the goblins," Harry replied. "The Minister is having lunch with Ginny and all the assistants are busy running our departments whilst we're here."

"Did you set this all up just to punish Neville?" Dennis asked, slightly concerned.

Harry shrugged in response. "Well, just ask yourself, would you be here if it weren't for me?" There was silence as the four colleagues ate their lunch, the everyday sounds of the friendly looking cafe they were sitting in surrounding them as people went about their everyday lives.

"Well done on the talk show, by the way," Ron said to Harry between bites. "You really had the Minister rip into those guys."

Harry shrugged. "The Minister was feeling it," he responded. "He is the one who should be congratulated."

"The debate on foreign policy was very well navigated," Hermione said her part. "I assume you advised the Minister to steer conversation towards our outreach programs."

"Yeah," Harry replied. "I just didn't want anyone to fixate on the gaff we made in Argentina."

"I can't believe you guys didn't realise you didn't have an ambassador there," Dennis said, part amused part concerned by the error. "Did you not wonder why no one was ever talking to you about them?"

"Not really," Ron said. "So far Argentina have done nothing to bring our attention to them. Even when they hosted the World Cup we talked directly to their Department of Magical Transportation, we didn't need an ambassador."

"Have you got one now?" Dennis asked.

"We're working on it," Harry assured him. "Although sometimes I wonder who exactly is working on it."

"Amos," Hermione told them. "He told me to prepare to release a name for ambassador a few weeks back and nothing came from it."

"Wait, Amos is the one screwing this up?" Ron said in surprise. "I mean, he'd be the last one I'd expect to drop the ball."

"Maybe he's just being careful over his choice," Hermione reasoned. "Argentina have given previous Ministries problems, perhaps he is looking for the best possible candidate."

"Or perhaps the best candidates don't want the job," Harry said suddenly, an idea popping into his head. "It's a dangerous role, it wasn't too long ago that all the foreign ambassadors in Argentina were imprisoned."

"That was under a dictatorship over ten years ago," Hermione argued.

"Ten years in a country's history," Harry countered. "That's not long. Argentina may be more stable now, especially after having hosted the World Cup, but they still have problems."

"What's the issue with Argentina now?" Dennis asked.

"Violence, smuggling," Harry started listing.

"Drug abuse, black-market potion trading," Ron added.

"Child labour, poverty, low life expectancy, anti-European sentiment," Hermione finished reluctantly, seeing Harry's point. "The Argentinian government are friendlier to other Ministries than they have ever been but the fall of the Jacinto regime has led to sheer chaos in a previously oppressed nation."

"Are you saying that dictatorship was better for Argentina?" Dennis asked in amazement, not quite sure he was hearing right.

"Not in the long run," Hermione hurriedly explained. "Once the Argentine Ministry are able to pull things together the country will be much better off than it was before."

"But in the short term, yes," Harry answered, saying the words that Hermione dared not utter. "Ten years ago in Argentina life expectancy was higher, criminal activity was low and the country was more or less united around its leader. The same could not be said now."

"The current Ministry is rather unpopular," Hermione said. "They were voted in by Argentina's first ever election, yet the people have lost faith and now the people they'd just got rid of are finding support again for their cause."

"It's important that this Argentinian government succeeds," Ron stressed. "The people may not get the chance to elect another one like it if they don't."

"Wait, is that why the World Cup was given to Argentina?" Dennis asked. "It was such a scandal when it was announced, what with all the reports of violence."

"You've got to think that was the case," Harry replied. "None of us can know for sure but the other candidates, Russia, Germany, the USA, were all better prepared for it."

"We're very thankful that the World Cup Committee decided to award the finals to Argentina," Hermione said. "The good that the finals did, especially considering they were achieved without any major incidents, is perhaps the strongest positive the government have to work with."

Suddenly each of their phones started going off, surprising the nearby patrons as the four Ministry staffers simply glanced down at their phones in despair.

"Looks like our break's over," Harry commented, standing up and popping the last of his panini into his mouth as he and his three colleagues left the peaceful cafe.

* * *

"Harry," Neville called as he spotted Harry walking past, crowds of maintenance men surrounding him as they worked to set up the interview studio.

"What the hell," Harry muttered as he looked around, seeing the various camera equipment and sound systems surrounding the seating area in the centre. "We're having the interviews here?" He complained. "We need to get through here to work."

"Yeah, I know," Neville replied, his face flushed from his exertions. "It won't be that bad once everything is finished. People will just have to be quiet when passing this area, or else go by past Hermione's office."

Harry nodded reluctantly. "Alright, why did you call me over?"

"I just wanted to show you how everything will work," Neville said, leading him past the bank of cameras and onto the set. "The presenters will be sitting here," he gestured to the sofa sitting on the left. "While we will be sitting here," Neville pointed at the three individual chairs lined up, half facing the presenters sofa and half facing the cameras.

"Have we got a running order yet?" Harry asked, examining the rest of the set and glancing out at the cameras, trying to imagine what it would be like once the interviews had started.

"Yes," Neville replied, rifling through the papers in his arms. "We'll start with Amos, then Ron and Remus, then we'll do me, Hermione, you and then we'll finish with the Minister."

"Is that all?" Harry asked. "I thought they wanted an idea of life in the Ministry, wouldn't they also want an assistant's point of view or something?"

Neville shrugged, his finger still flitting through the papers. "I'll talk to them about it," Neville said. "Actually, they want the Minister to be the one to close the interview at the end. They've written a speech for him to use but I thought you'd rather have a go at this yourself."

Harry nodded as he accepted the sheet from Neville. "This looks like it's been written by a 12 year old," Harry commented as he skimmed through it. "'It's with great pleasure… honesty and integrity… public', it's like we're admitting that we've been hiding things from them. Who wrote this?"

Neville jerked his head slightly behind him to one of the TV crew members, a man who seemed to be doing his best not to listen to what was being said.

"I'll have a look at it," Harry assured Neville, sticking the paper under his arm. "I have to get going."

"Wait," Neville said as Harry made to turn away. "I saw the others rush past here, what's going on?"

Harry thought about answering before glancing at the cameras surrounding them, mindful of the fact they were surrounded by outsiders. "There's a story that's about to break," Harry whispered quietly to him, turning to conceal his face in case the cameras were on. "Charlie Weasley has apparently made a comment about foreign dragons we're importing for the new dragon reserve in Wales."

"What sort of comments?" Neville asked.

"We're not entirely sure," Harry replied. "We haven't heard the quote ourselves but someone has got the story. Hermione's trying to find out who."

"I assume Charlie is coming to see the Minister?" Neville asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "We're sure it's nothing, just a misquote or poor word choice or something. Anyway, we're working on keeping this from being a big thing."

"Alright, I'll keep you up to date on what's going on here," Neville assured him and Harry left.

Harry didn't take long to get to his office, the studio being very close by. Placing the speech he'd just received on the desk, Harry started to read it over, standing over it and sipping from a mug of coffee.

There was a knock on his door. "Excuse me, are you Harry Potter?" The speaker was a rather beautiful young woman with rich brown hair that was well styled over her shoulder.

"Yes," Harry asked, taking another sip from his mug. "Who's asking?"

The brunette smiled widely at him, displaying dazzling white teeth as she stepped into his office properly. "Hi, I'm Sharon Wakefield," she introduced herself, holding out her hand.

"Pleasure to meet you," Harry replied, taking her hand. "Now, who are you?"

Sharon laughed at this, bringing her hand back so she could brush her hair out of her face. "I'm the producer for the show," she explained. "I just wanted to check in with the Communications Director, considering it would seem appropriate for him to be the one in charge of all this."

"You've talked with Neville Longbottom?" Harry asked, to which she nodded. "He's your guy. Believe me, I am very against this whole idea."

"Why?" Sharon asked, leaning herself against his desk as she spoke.

Harry shrugged. "Because it's an opportunity to make a major gaff to the public," he responded. "Your show has magnificent ratings and continues to draw in more and more viewers, we make a mistake and everyone finds out."

"It could also be used to make yourself look good to the public," Sharon replied. "A good appearance will make you much more likeable as an administration."

Harry took a second to reply to that, having not expected a well reasoned response. "You have a point," Harry conceded. "Except that the vast majority of your viewers don't vote. For the people who do vote they won't hear about us being nice and friendly, but they will hear of any mistakes we may make whilst we're on air."

"Word can spread," Sharon argued. "And maybe hearing you guys speak and hearing you as humans will encourage more people to vote."

"It won't," Harry replied shortly.

"Why not?"

"They don't trust the system," Harry said simply. "Everyone is perfectly on board with choosing their own government, but the system used makes them think they're being cheated."

"Then why not change the system?" Sharon asked.

"Because it works," Harry replied. "We divide the country based on magical population and give each region a vote or number of votes that best represents the population of that particular region. Besides," he said, looking at other documents scattered across his desk. "It's always a bad idea for a Ministry to change an election system, it just makes it look like they're trying to get a bigger advantage."

"You're a pretty good talker," Sharon complimented him. "I've seen you on TV but to hear it in person is something else."

"Well thank you, I do pride myself on my public speaking," Harry said lightly. "Cho!"

"Yes," Cho said, quickly striding into Harry's office at his call.

"Contact Remus or Amos and tell them I'm ready for a brief on what they talked about with the goblins today," Harry told her. "Start with Remus, I expect Amos will be busy at the moment."

"Yes, Harry," Cho replied, striding swiftly back out of his office as quickly as she'd come.

There was a small silence in the office as Cho left, Harry looking through his files whilst Sharon continued to look around his office in interest.

"So you know the running order?" she asked suddenly.

"Neville's informed me," Harry replied without looking up. "I'm happy with it if you are."

"I'm not," Sharon replied.

"I'm not surprised," Harry said, looking up at this to watch the producer.

"The whole idea was that we would be finding out about life at the Ministry," Sharon said, getting animated. "We can't get an idea of that simply by talking to the Senior Staff. You'll all just be ridiculously smart and stay true to the policies of the Ministry, looking to score political points at every opportunity presented to you. I want more."

Harry looked at her interestedly, noting the way her cheeks flushed and her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she grew ever more passionate about her cause. "Talk to Neville," he said simply.

"I want to talk to secretaries, assistants, anyone who works here could be of interest to me," Sharon pushed forward. "Listen to what I'm saying, I'm offering to let some of the Senior Staff off the hook in order to talk to the lower ranks. What secrets do you think they'll let out, huh?"

"Miss Wakefield," Harry said calmly. "This isn't my party. Talk to Neville, you'll find him at the studio."

Sharon seemed a bit put off by being pushed aside, perhaps feeling that Harry was simply dismissing her. Harry quickly looked to head that off. "Seriously, go," he said, making a little shooing motion. "You talk to Neville about this and he'll work something out."

Sharon seemed to hesitate for a moment, torn between leaving or staying. Eventually her good sense won out. "Okay, I will," she said, standing somewhat awkwardly halfway between Harry's desk and the door. "Thank you for your time."

Harry waved her off as she left the room, walking in the direction of the makeshift studio. Looking up from his papers, Harry watched her go with interest, surprised by the conversation he'd just had.

"Harry," Cho said as she came into his line of sight. "Remus is free right now if you want."

Harry nodded. "I'll just go see him," he said, moving around his desk. "Thanks, Cho."

* * *

Charlie Weasley wandered quietly through the halls of the Ministry, various members of staff hurrying around him, not even giving him a second glance. He'd never been in this section of the Ministry before and was currently walking blind in the hope he was still on track, following the welcome desk's directions.

Pausing for a moment to get his bearings, Charlie took a left, finding himself in an office area with two large work stations. As he stepped inside the two workers looked up at him, not seeming surprised by his appearance but at the same time seemingly unaware of his purpose.

"Can we help you?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Charlie said, moving forward to her desk. "I'm supposed to be meeting with the Minister. Am I in the right place?"

"Of course," Daphne told him, standing up. "I'll just go see if he's available."

"Thank you," Charlie said, watching her walk through another door. Standing awkwardly in the office, Charlie glanced down at the man at the other desk, who had already returned to his work. Looking around Charlie found a few seats lined up against the wall behind him. Just as he thought to sit down Daphne returned.

"He can see you now," she told him, leaving the office door ajar as she walked back to her desk. Taking a deep breath, Charlie walked up to the door and walked inside.

"Charlie," the Minister greeted him. "It's been such a long time, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine, dad," Charlie said stiffly, walking a few steps into the office before stopping.

The Minister noticed his reluctance with worry, not sure what was wrong with his second son. "Take a seat," he offered, gesturing to the seating area as he walked around the desk.

Almost automatically Charlie walked over and sat on the sofa offered, his back straight as he continued to stare straight ahead of him. Growing more concerned the Minister joined him, slowly settling into his favourite armchair.

"So, Charlie," the Minister started again, trying to engage his son in small talk. "What's going on with you at the moment? We haven't heard from you in a while, and you know how much that worries your mother."

"It doesn't worry you?" Charlie asked.

"Well, I know you can look after yourself," the Minister replied with a frown. "Something your mother seems to forget with every one of her children."

"I suppose it doesn't hurt you've got Ministry security keeping an eye on me," Charlie added.

The Minister chuckled at that, though Charlie still refused to crack a smile. "Yes, that is a bit of a comfort," he admitted. "But what's new in your life Charlie? It seems like ages since we last spoke."

"It has been," Charlie mumbled under his breath. "But let's not talk about that right now. You called me here for a reason."

The Minister was rather put out by this, but nevertheless got down to business. "We have reports going around the Ministry at the moment that say a reporter is planning on publishing a story that has you quoted as saying we should not import dragons into the dragon reserve in Wales," the Minister told him. "Do you know anything about this?"

"Yes," Charlie replied simply. "I do know something about this because I did tell a reporter that you were wrong to import dragons."

The Minister blinked in surprise. "You did?" he said owlishly. "Why?"

"Because it's true," Charlie countered. "The dragons you are importing come from all around the world, most notably from Africa and South America. They don't belong in Wales. Welsh Greens belong in Wales. Hebridean Blacks can live there too, maybe even Normandy Bluespikes, Norwegian Ridgebacks or Swedish Short-snouts. But not the Argentinian Blue-snout or the Peruvian Vipertooth and certainly not the Antipodean Opaleye."

"Don't you think we thought about this?" the Minister countered. "We've got some of the best dragon experts the country has to offer working on making the reserve inhabitable for every breed of dragon we bring in."

"And I'm sure they'll do a great job," Charlie agreed. "But it's not the same as being in their native land. These dragons are not in abundance in the wild. In fact, several of them are dying out and we're only contributing to that by taking them from their homes."

There was a knock on the door as the father and son stared at each other, halting them mid argument. "Minister," Blaise said as he stepped inside. "Kingsley Shacklebolt would like to see you."

"Is it time?" the Minister asked, glancing up at the clock on the wall.

"Yes, sir," Blaise replied.

The Minister sighed. "Alright, tell him I'll be right through," the Minister told Blaise, who nodded and left the room. "I'm sorry about this, Charlie, but I've got a meeting with the Ministry security council that I need to get to. We'll continue our discussion when I get back."

"How long will you be?" Charlie asked, standing up as the Minister did.

"It will be a while, I'm afraid," the Minister sighed. "These meetings tend to overrun. Why don't you go to The Burrow and see your mother, I'll call for you when I'm free again."

"Alright," Charlie agreed, slightly uneasy about the way he was being told to do this. As the Minister walked swiftly out of the office, Charlie began to wonder when his father became the Minister to him.

* * *

Harry scribbled on the Minister's closing statement for a second, before leaning back and examining what was now written, the original sheet covered in nearly unrecognisable scrawls as he chopped and changed. Finally satisfied, Harry pulled out a new sheet of parchment and started to write out his final draft, squinting to recognise his own handwriting as he copied down his corrections.

"Harry," Cho said as she walked into his office, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she walked. Harry held a hand up to stop her, his right hand still flying across the parchment as he made his speech legible. Finishing with the copy, Harry picked it up and read through it again, his lips mouthing the words as he went. Finally he set the parchment down and looked up.

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to inform you that you are scheduled to appear on the show soon," Cho told him, reading off the schedule in her arms. "When you come on you'll be interviewed with Ron…"

"Then with Ron and Hermione and lastly on my own," Harry recited from memory, having seen the schedule and studied it at length. "Cho, did you change your clothes?"

Cho blushed, caught out as she looked down at her best clothes. "Um, yes," she said nervously, a hand going to her hair which Harry just noticed was styled more than usual. "Well, when Neville added me to the schedule I wanted to look my best."

"So you changed," Harry continued. "And you did your hair and make up." Cho blushed again, looking down in embarrassment. "It looks good," Harry complimented her.

"Really?" Cho looked up in surprise.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Lets just hope that no one at the show saw you before you changed." Harry strode past a slightly bewildered Cho, who at that moment was racing through her head trying to remember if she'd talked to any of the TV people.

"Oh shit," she swore, hurrying after Harry as she remembered. "Harry, I was talking to one of the camera men earlier," she said in a hushed voice, following Harry closely as he strode casually down the corridor. "Oh god, and the producer saw me when she was in your office."

"Cho, I was joking," Harry replied straight faced, giving Cho a raised eyebrow as she followed him. "Now, take this to the Minister's office and tell him to memorise it for his closing statement."

Cho nodded as she hurried away with the sheet of parchment. Harry, meanwhile, reached the makeshift studio, watching as Ron was being interviewed.

"How's it going?" Harry whispered quietly to Neville as he moved in beside him, back to the wall.

"It's going well," Neville replied. "Amos led off strongly, made the discussion political a few times and confused the presenters. Then we had Luna," Harry snorted, "so naturally the presenters were even more confused. Ron's been on for a few minutes now, and the presenters are really relieved to have someone to just talk to."

"I can imagine," Harry replied quietly. "Nice going, starting with Amos and Luna, that sounds like it worked really well."

"Yeah, it has," Neville replied thoughtfully. "I'm having a few thoughts about the lineup later though. Should we really put Lizzie on?"

Harry nodded. "I think it's just what the public want," he replied. "She's going on at the same time as Cho, isn't she, so that'll help her out."

"I suppose," Neville said uncertainly. "If you're sure then okay, but just make sure you speak to her and lay down the law."

"Of course," Harry replied.

"And Dennis," Neville continued. "He's new as well, perhaps having someone else alongside him wouldn't be a bad idea."

"You mean me?" Harry said, reading between the lines.

"Not necessarily you," Neville said. "But it would make more sense for the Deputy Communications Director to be interviewed with the Communications Director."

"Aren't you concerned we'll give the idea that we're not trusting our new recruits?" Harry asked.

"We don't trust them really," Neville countered. "They are both really new to this, it would be really useful to have a more experienced head sitting next to them."

"But still, having Dennis interviewed with his boss," Harry replied, shaking his head. "Alright, a compromise. I'll join Dennis for half his interview."

"Which half?" Neville asked. "If you do the first half it'll seem like you are making sure he won't say anything before leaving, if you do the second half it'll seem as though you only came on because he said something wrong."

Harry stroked his chin in thought, eyes watching the interview before him unseeing. "Make it the second half," he answered finally. "I'll play it casual, tell Dennis so he won't seem surprised when I turn up."

"And we're out," the director said, removing his headset as he spoke.

"Well, I'll say things are going well so far," Sharon said as she approached Harry and Neville. "Charles and Grace have really had a tough time keeping up with you guys. Somehow I don't think that was an accident."

Harry and Neville looked at each other. "While we are on the subject," Neville said, bringing out his revised schedule. "We've decided to stick Harry in about halfway through Dennis' interview."

"Why?" Sharon asked, looking between the two men. "Is this what the two of you were whispering about?"

"Yes," Harry replied simply. "And I think it would be a good idea to bring Ron back in after the interview with Ginny."

"Not with Ginny?" Neville asked.

"I think it would be nice to finish up with a Weasley run up to the end," Harry replied. "Ginny as a more social interview choice, Ron bridging the gap between that and the political aspects of the Ministry before we finish off with the Minister himself."

"If we're going to do that then perhaps we should try to pull in other Weasley's for the finale," Neville suggested. "We could call Bill over from Gringotts and Charlie is in the Ministry already."

Harry shook his head. "It's not enough notice for Bill and Charlie doesn't have anything to do with the Ministry, he spends all his time in Romania looking after the dragons," Harry told him. "No, what we've got, that's good."

"One minute," the director called, prompting an aide to run up to Harry and escort him to the set.

"Pleasure to meet you," the male presenter said. "Charles Dane, and this is Grace Brook."

"Harry Potter," Harry greeted, shaking their hands.

"30 seconds," the director called, prompting Harry to take his seat next to Ron, who gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "We're on in 5…4…3…2…" he went silent as he counted the last second before signalling they were on.

"Good afternoon and welcome back to a special edition of Private Lives," Charles spoke, smiling broadly as he faced the camera. "Today we'll be talking with various people in and around the Ministry of Magic to find out just what the people who are involved in the running of our country are actually like."

"That's right," Grace piped in. "Before we left we were talking with Political Strategy Director Ron Weasley, and now he is joined by the Communications Director, Harry Potter. Now, Harry, perhaps you could explain for us just what your job entails?"

"Of course," Harry said politely, smiling at Grace as he leaned forward in his seat to answer.

* * *

Amos sat quietly behind his desk, watching the ongoing interview as he awaited his next appointment. On the screen Hermione joined Harry and Ron on set just as there was a knock on his office door.

"Stewart Diaz to see you," Luna said as she stepped inside.

"Send him in," Amos replied, muting the TV and getting up from his seat. "Stewart," he greeted as the man walked in, smiling broadly as he shook Amos' hand.

"Amos, so good to see you," Stewart replied enthusiastically. "Actually, this is the second time I've seen you today," he added with a meaningful nod to the TV.

"Oh, you saw that," Amos replied, somewhat surprised to find he watched such shows.

"My wife is a big fan," Stewart replied, taking a seat as Amos went back behind his desk. "She always jokes she's going to run off with that Charles bloke, she'll be annoyed that you bashed him around like that."

"I thought I was going easy on him," Amos said good-naturedly.

"Undoubtedly you were," Stewart laughed. "Although if my wife hears about this I may find myself on the sofa tonight, so lips zipped, eh Amos."

"You have my silence," Amos replied. "As a married man myself I would be a traitor to do otherwise."

"That's the ticket," Stewart said with a grin. "Now, why did you want to meet me, I assume it wasn't just to catch up."

"That assumption would be correct," Amos agreed. "I actually came to you with a business proposition."

"No," Stewart said immediately.

"No?" Amos repeated. "I haven't even told you what the proposition is yet."

"I know what it is," Stewart retorted. "It's not difficult to see. I'm a well respected politician with good foreign policy experience and with roots in Argentina through my father, I'm obviously your favoured candidate."

"And why won't you consider it?" Amos asked. "You just said it yourself, you're the perfect candidate. You are a very easy man to get along with, not to mention you speak both English and Spanish fluently."

"Argentina is not safe," Stewart said. "It's not even close. Maybe if I was young and driven, and more importantly, single, I would consider throwing myself into the action. But I'm not, I can't take the risk. I've got a family now, a wife, children, my first grandchild is due in just over a month."

"I know that," Amos replied. "But I'm appealing to the part of you that believes in doing what is right. I'm appealing to the part of you that campaigned for the classification of werewolves as beings rather than beasts. I'm appealing to the part that first introduced the idea of compulsory muggle and wizarding studies before anyone else had even considered the thought. Argentina needs you."

"Argentina needs someone," Stewart corrected him.

"It could be you," Amos replied.

"It could be lots of people," Stewart countered.

"No it couldn't," Amos denied. "I've had a long time to think about this decision. It's a decision I need to get right. And I've decided that you're the best man for the job."

Stewart stood up, pacing the width of the room as he rubbed at his head. "What about Esparza, or Ibanez?" he suggested.

"Ezequiel Esparza has a three year old son with another on the way," Amos said. "His family concerns are even greater than yours. And Marcos Ibanez was friendly with the Jacinto regime, he'd be hated before he even got there and it would send a terrible signal of our intentions for Argentina."

Stewart paced the room again, an inner battle raging inside him as Amos watched patiently. "I can't do it," he said, still pacing. "I can't move my wife there, she doesn't speak Spanish and she'd hardly fit in with the locals even if she could."

"Whoever we appoint as ambassador will receive accommodation with the best security available," Amos replied. "Your wife will have plenty of people to talk to with the families of other officials, most of them have much the same difficulties you just described."

"I still don't think you've made the right choice," Stewart said, going back to his previous argument. "I don't have much to do with Argentina. I've never been there. I've lived in England all my life."

"I know," Amos replied. "But your father was well respected in Argentina. He fought the Jacinto regime and is considered a hero for doing so. By taking this job you'll have the opportunity to influence an entire nation."

"I'm sorry Amos, I can't do this," Stewart shook his head, heading for the door. "You're going to have to find someone else."

"There is no one else," Amos said to his back, halting him in his tracks. "You're it. Don't you want a chance to steer a country down the right path." Amos stood up and walked around his desk, approaching Stewart who had turned slightly to see him.

"I know you're worried, with good reason," he said softly. "But Argentina needs you, and I know your dad left you with something more than just the Spanish language. He left you with tales of what Argentina used to be, when he was just a young man with the world at his feet. I'm not going to force you to take this job if you don't want it, but I think you want it more than you're willing to let on."

There was silence as the old friends looked at each other. "It'll be dangerous," Stewart said. "Argentina has so many problems."

"Which is why you need to go," Amos told him. "Argentina has the potential for so much more, they just need to be shown the way."

Without realising it Stewart found himself nodding in agreement, hearing his own true beliefs parroted to him as clear as day. "I'll talk to Meredith," he said quietly. "It was nice seeing you Amos."

"You too, Stewart," Amos replied, offering his hand. "Good luck."

Stewart took his hand and with a nod of respect left the office.

Amos sighed as his whole body seemed to sag. He walked back to his desk and sunk into his chair, holding his head in his hands as he contemplated just what he'd made Stewart do. He knew the risks, perhaps better than anyone, but he also knew what was needed. And he hated it.

Glancing at his decanter of fire-whiskey, Amos resisted for just a moment before he went to pour himself a glass, his hands shaking nervously. Recapping the fire-whiskey, Amos gulped down his glass in one swift motion, grimacing slightly as the liquid passed over his tongue. With a sigh he placed his glass back down and walked back to his desk, the interview still playing on the TV beside him.

* * *

"So, Hermione, how does it feel to be the only female member of the Senior Staff?" Grace asked, leaning forward. "I mean, it must be difficult without any girlfriends to chat to during the day."

"It's not really an issue for me," Hermione replied casually, an answer she'd actually prepared days in advance. "During the day there is very little time for small talk so it's something that hasn't made too much of a difference in my day to day life."

"So, what you're saying is that you never have the opportunity to talk to people?" Grace asked.

"Now that's another matter altogether," Hermione laughed. "I talk to people all the time. Every time I walk in and out of my office I'll greet my assistant and in our line of work there is an awful lot of communication between various members of staff. It's not uncommon for me to visit Harry in his office in the morning, have Ron come to mine that afternoon and then bump into Neville Longbottom, the Deputy Chief of Staff, on my way out."

"Great, well I've got a question for all three of you," Charles announced. "After having spent over a year working together how do you think you get along personally as well as professionally?"

"Well, I'd start off by saying we've been working together longer than that," Harry corrected. "We were each heavily involved with Minister Weasley's election campaign, so you can add another year or so onto that."

"But the answer really is that we've been friends personally for quite some time," Hermione cut in. "We've been friends since our first year at Hogwarts together. We were each sorted into Gryffindor and through some unusual events we ended up becoming best friends. And we have been ever since."

"Aw, what a nice story," Grace fawned dramatically. "It's amazing that the three of you ended up working together over ten years after leaving Hogwarts. What a coincidence."

"Oh, it's no coincidence," Ron informed her. "Naturally I knew before most people that my dad was going to run for Minister, so I told my dad that if he wanted to win he needed the best and brightest people around him, so I told him to get Hermione."

"You can imagine my surprise when the father of one of my best friends calls me up and offers me a job like this," Hermione said. "I would have thought it was a hoax had I not known the reputation of Ron's father."

"So the Minister called you in," Charles concluded. "But how did Harry join you?"

"Actually, Ron called me himself," Harry said. "I was working at the Liverpool City Council under Darrell Pierce when Ron called me up and asked if I wanted to work for the next Minister for Magic."

"He must have sold it well to have caused you to quit?" Charles said, more serious.

Ron laughed. "Hardly," he chortled. "As soon as I mentioned it was going to be me and Hermione with him on the campaign trail he was straight on board."

"Our political lives had kept us from staying in touch the way we wanted to," Hermione said. "When we were given this offer it was simply impossible for us to say no."

"Exactly," Harry agreed.

"Okay," Charles said. "Now that we've established the three of you are friends, what kind of friend are you? What role do you play in your group?"

"Hermione's the smart one," Ron said immediately, to which Harry nodded. "Seriously, you should have seen her at school, she'd get full marks on everything."

"So if she's the smart one then who's the jock?" Grace asked eagerly.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "That's probably you," Harry said. "You're more laid back than I am, I tend to worry too much to be a jock."

"Well I suppose that makes you the funny one," Charles joked.

"I can live with that," Harry smiled.

"Alright, we've got time for just one more question before the interval and Ron and Hermione have to leave us," Charles said at the prompting of the director. "Now, I've heard Hermione isn't a great Quidditch fan but word is the two of you are. Question, which team do you support and why?"

"The Chudley Cannons," Ron answered proudly. "Supported them since I went to see my very first game and Chudley won by just 10 points."

"They haven't, of course, won since then," Harry joked. "Hey look, I am the funny one." Ron hit him good-naturedly.

"Well then, who do you support Harry?" Grace asked.

"Puddlemere United," Harry answered. "I was on the quidditch team during all seven of my years at Hogwarts and in those first three years my captain was Oliver Wood, the current captain of Puddlemere."

"Wow," Charles said. "I'd love to go into this more but unfortunately it's time for a break." He turned to the camera. "Please stay with us as we continue this very special edition of Private Lives. After the break Ron and Hermione will be leaving us but Harry will still be here, so stay tuned."

"We're out," the director called, leading to movement as crew shifted about to prepare for the next shoot.

"How's everything going?" Ron asked. "Is Charlie still here?"

"The Minister had to go to a meeting," Hermione told him. "I'm not sure if Charlie is still in the building or not."

"Never mind, I'll ask Daphne," Ron said as he stood up. "Have you got anything you need to get to Hermione?"

"Yeah," Hermione sighed wearily. "I've got to find out who Charlie spoke to in the press and stop them from writing about it."

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'll talk to Michael and see if he knows anything," Hermione said. "But if he doesn't it'll be near impossible to find who has the story before it's published."

"Good luck," Harry told her before she strode away. It wasn't long before Demelza fell into step beside her.

"Hey Hermione, you were good on there," Demelza told her.

"Thank you," Hermione replied. "What have you got for me?"

"You know, I was thinking that perhaps before we go home today the two of us could have a talk," Demelza said.

"A talk?" Hermione questioned. "What's the matter? What do you need to talk about?"

"Oh, you know, girl stuff," Demelza said airily, bringing an even more confused look from Hermione. "You know you said on the interview you don't really get that much of an opportunity so I thought-"

"Give me the file," Hermione cut across her, rolling her eyes at her assistant's behaviour. Demelza reluctantly stopped talking and passed her the file.

"I've also got a message from Amos," she continued. "He wants you to prepare yourself for releasing the name of our new ambassador to Argentina."

"Do we have a new ambassador to Argentina?" Hermione asked.

"Not yet, but Amos said it's in the bag," Demelza confirmed.

"Well, let's hope he's right," Hermione said under her breath as she and Demelza split up, Demelza walking on to her desk whilst Hermione turned off to visit the press offices.

"Hey," Hermione said as she walked into Michael's cubicle, causing him to look up from his work.

"Hey," he replied with a smile. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Hermione said. "But unfortunately I'm here on business rather than pleasure."

"Ah," Michael said. "And here I was thinking you were coming by my office to surprise me with a beautiful candle lit dinner. What do you need?"

"Do you know anything about a story that's been going around about Charlie Weasley?" Hermione asked. "Apparently he's been quoted speaking out against the Davidson Memorial Dragon Reserve and I was trying to find the journalist he spoke to."

"Well," Michael said, twirling his quill in his hands. "You're in luck, I know who he talked to."

"Who?" Hermione asked urgently.

"Me," Michael replied.

Hermione blinked at him in surprise. "Michael, you're the one who got the quote?" Hermione said in astonishment. "I didn't think you were one to go out of your way to harass members of the Minister's family."

"I'm not," Michael said defensively. "I didn't go to him, he called me."

Hermione stood in silence for a moment. "Charlie called you?" she repeated, not quite comprehending it.

"Yes, he called me," Michael confirmed. "It was quite late yesterday and he phoned my boss asking to speak to the Ministry correspondent. My boss naturally handed the call to me and I accurately quoted what he told me."

"Right," Hermione said, trying to get herself back on track after the surprise. "Alright, well, that's clearly something the Minister and Charlie have to sort out and is therefore none of our business."

"I agree," Michael said.

"So you won't print the story?" Hermione pressed, trying to make sure she'd got a deal.

"No," Michael told her. "I am going to print it."

"What?" Hermione asked, astonished. "Why? You just said it's none of our business."

"What I said was that the fact Charlie called me to give the quote is none of our business," Michael corrected her. "But a dragon expert, who happens to be related to the Minister, reportedly speaking out against the Minister's plans for a dragon reserve is news."

"So you're going to print it?" Hermione concluded. "And there is nothing that will convince you not to?"

Michael shook his head. "This is my job," he told her. "Just because we're in a relationship doesn't mean I should be nice and do everything you ask when we're in this building. And if you think I'm lying just ask yourself, would I have printed this story had I not been going out with you?"

Hermione was silent for a moment as she looked down at the floor. "I don't think you would have," she said quietly.

Michael sighed regretfully. "Then maybe you didn't know me as well as you thought you did."

"Maybe not," Hermione agreed as she turned to leave.

"We're still on for tonight?" Michael asked worriedly.

Hermione barely stopped to nod, leaving the cubicle swiftly as she fought with her emotions to stay professional. Back in the cubicle Michael sighed tiredly, wondering just how many more fights his job would bring to his relationship.

* * *

"Alright, putting quidditch aside for a moment," Charles said. "One thing the public have been very interested about with you is your relationship with the Minister's daughter."

"Yes, I'm surprised that hasn't come up already," Harry replied, keeping his cheerful facade up as he internally sighed.

"Yes, well, after the accusations by Rita Skeeter of Witch Weekly, which were proven false, by the way," Charles assured the audience. "It was brought to public attention that you were in a long term relationship with Ginny Weasley. Now, how long is long term?"

"Well, within a couple of months we will be celebrating our 2 year anniversary," Harry told them.

"That's a long time," Grace noted. "So that would put you back on the Minister's election campaign when you got together. How did the two of you meet?"

"Well, technically we met back at Hogwarts," Harry started. "She was a Gryffindor in the year below me. But, of course, I was best friends with her brother and she had her own separate group of friends so we didn't really talk to each other much."

"When we actually got together we were campaigning in Manchester," Harry told them. "The Minister had just finished giving a speech and this young woman with brilliant red hair approached me at the bar and congratulated me on the speech."

"Are you saying you didn't recognise her?" Grace asked with a giggle.

"Not at first," Harry admitted. "It'd been nearly ten years since I'd last seen her and I was so distracted by the campaign that it took me ages to put two and two together. It was a shock when I did."

"I can imagine," Charles commented. "And I can imagine it was quite a shock for her brother and father too."

"I imagine," Harry replied. "I didn't actually realise that the Minister had known about our relationship all the way back then until quite recently. He never said anything to even hint he knew about us."

"But it must have been weird when Ron found out," Charles prodded. "You were his best friend."

"Exactly," Harry said with a smile. "I was his best friend, which is perhaps the only reason he didn't punch me when I told him."

"What did he do?" Grace asked.

"Well, he lost the ability to speak for a while," Harry said lightly. "But he actually got over it very quickly. I think he perhaps expected something to be up given how much time Ginny would spend with the campaign crew."

Harry's focus was diverted as he noticed Cho walking towards him. Nervously she skirted round the cameras before she had no choice but to simply walk onto the set to reach him. Tilting his head slightly, Harry listened carefully to what she had to say as everyone else waited.

"Alright, I'm afraid I must go," Harry told them as Cho finished speaking, surprising the assorted crew members as he stood up.

"Can you tell us what you are going to do?" Grace asked.

"Afraid not," Harry replied. "I'm not allowed to speak on Ministry work until we are ready to release the details to the press." Harry stood for a second, weighing up his options, before speaking again. "But don't worry, Cho here will be more than happy to take my place."

Cho looked at him in surprise, clearly not ready to be on TV yet. "Knock 'em dead," Harry told Cho cheekily as he walked off, leaving a stunned Cho to take the seat he'd just vacated. Harry strode quickly away and, as he moved past his office, caught sight of Lizzie.

"Lizzie, you're on," Harry called to her, gesturing to the TV to get his point across. Lizzie went pale as she got his meaning, but nevertheless stood up resolutely and made her way towards the studio.

Harry continued past his office and onwards, eventually reaching Amos's office door, which he entered after knocking. "You wanted to see me?" Harry asked, noting on the TV that Lizzie had joined the set and was talking rapidly in a nervous fashion.

"Yes, I want to give you the heads up about something," Amos told him, muting the TV. "I'm appointing Stewart Diaz as our Ambassador to Argentina."

"Is that confirmed?" Harry asked interestedly.

"Not yet," Amos admitted. "But I've got Stewart convinced. He's an idealistic guy, I know how to push his buttons."

"Was he worried about the instability of the Argentine Ministry?" Harry asked. "I'm sure you had to have mentioned that when you spoke to him."

"He's well aware of the dangers," Amos confirmed. "He had many arguments on why he couldn't do it based on that very theme but his sense of duty won out."

"His sense of duty to us?" Harry asked.

"His sense of duty to Argentina," Amos replied. "He may never have been there before but his surname has always given him a link to the country of his father that he can't help but hold on to."

"Alright," Harry said. "Thank you for letting me know."

"You know why I told you?" Amos asked, not getting a reply from Harry. "You're going to be working with this guy, a lot I expect. You're going to be the one that hears his reports and tells him what this Ministry wants him to do."

"So what you're saying is that I'm going to be responsible for him," Harry said warily.

"You're his contact with us," Amos told him. "When things are happening it's going to be you he calls."

"Shall I set up a meeting?" Harry asked, eyes glancing distractedly to the TV screen.

"I will once we've officially confirmed the appointment," Amos told him. "He'll also need to see the Minister before he's officially given the position."

"Is the Minister in?" Harry asked, breaking off on a tangent.

"He's talking with Charlie right now," Amos said. "I'd wait until they're done."

Harry bit his lip. "Well, I need to speak with him before he goes on Private Lives," Harry told Amos. "I need to go over his closing statement."

"Tell Daphne to remind the Minister," Amos told him. "By the way, how's the interview going?"

Harry sighed. "It's going good so far," Harry replied. "We've got Cho and Lizzie on right now. Then we'll have Neville and Remus, then me and Dennis, then Hermione, Ginny, Ron again before we finish up with the Minister."

"Ron's going on again?" Amos asked. "I thought we were just going to have Ginny before the Minister."

"We're trying to faze it into being more political for when the Minister joins," Harry told him. "The lineup isn't necessarily finalised so it may still change as we go."

"Like the fact you should still be on right now," Amos noted.

"Right," Harry replied, walking towards the door. "See you later, Amos."

Meanwhile, in the Minister's office an argument was brewing.

"I just got a message from Hermione," the Minister told Charlie as he moved to his desk, putting on his glasses to read the note. "You've met Hermione, right? She says that you were the one to call the reporter. Now, please tell me she's wrong."

"She's not wrong," Charlie replied. "Although how you knew I'd called him I don't know."

"The reporter works here Charlie," the Minister said angrily. "Michael Corner has an office in this very building. Now can you please explain to me why he's been given this story."

"Because," Charlie answered. "That's the only way to get the issue to your attention."

"Charlie, we have protocols for dealing with complaints," the Minister told him. "We have people whose job it is to listen and report back to me."

"Exactly," Charlie pointed out. "If I brought this up the normal way I'd never get anywhere near this office. Someone would meet with me, assure me that my concerns will be taken into account and then I'd hear nothing more on the subject."

"You really believe that?" the Minister asked, walking back round his desk. "Charlie, you're my son. If you want to talk to me about something then just call me. Heck, you can come visit me if you like and I'd be more than happy to listen to you."

"Yes," Charlie said softly, acknowledging the point. "Yes, I could have just called you. But that's not right." The Minister looked at him in surprise. "It's not right that I should be listened to any more than any other person in this country. Did you know that there are a group who have banded together to protest the dragon reserve?"

"Yes," the Minister answered simply. "The Scales Union, featuring members from Bulgaria, Latvia, Estonia and Romania."

"That's right," Charlie said. "Did you know I know one of the leaders?"

This caught the Minister off guard. "I did not know that," the Minister admitted. "I assume this is one of your friends from the dragon reserve in Romania?"

Charlie nodded. "They are meeting with your Communications Director today," he told the Minister. "And that's as far as they will get. Despite the support for their cause they'll just get blown off."

"So is that why you went to Michael?" the Minister asked. "To force me to listen to this group? Or perhaps the point is I should listen more to all protest groups?"

"Why can't they both be the point?" Charlie asked.

The Minister sighed as he swept a hand through what remained of his fiery red hair. "Why couldn't you have just come to talk to me, Charlie?" he asked sadly. "Why did you think you needed to talk to a reporter in the first place?"

"Because I don't think I would be here otherwise," Charlie answered. "If I had phoned you, what would have happened? Would you listen to me and properly discuss this? Or would you do your best to assure me that you've got this covered, and just brush over my concerns?"

"I'm sensing this isn't about dragons anymore," the Minister said ominously, catching Charlie's eye with a serious stare. "What did you really want to talk about?"

Charlie pursed his lips, seemingly on the verge of saying something yet being held back at the same time.

"Come on Charlie," the Minister said forcefully. "Tell me why you came here."

"Because I want to talk to you," Charlie blurted out, the words seeming to pass his lips before he could stop them.

The Minister's face softened. "Charlie," he whispered sadly, but Charlie wasn't having any of it.

"No, don't start," he warned him angrily. "This isn't me feeling sad and lonely, I'm angry. I'm angry by the fact that my father seems to have forgotten I exist. You say all I need to do is visit you at work, but that's not possible. You are working all the time, I can't just pop in and visit you."

"Charlie," the Minister pleaded, but Charlie didn't stop.

"It's not just me," Charlie continued his rant. "When was the last time you talked to Fred or George, or even Percy for that matter? Can you even remember talking to any of us about anything besides work? I can't, and neither can my brothers. Did you know that George is engaged?"

The Minister's eyes widened in shock at this, completely taken aback by the news. "When did this happen?" he asked breathlessly.

"Three weeks ago," Charlie replied. "Three weeks ago George proposed to Angelina Johnson, have you met her? He called me, he called Bill, he even called Percy and you still don't know. I'm gay, dad, and I have been for two years now."

There was silence in the room as Charlie finished his rant, his face red with both anger and pain. The Minister's face was white as a sheet as he stood stock still on shaking legs. He took a step forwards and sank gratefully into his armchair, staring off into space as he struggled with what to do.

* * *

"Welcome back to our very special edition of Private Lives," Grace said as she came back on air. "We've just finished speaking to Hermione Granger, the Ministry's Press Secretary, but now we're going to move on to our next guest."

"Yes, we're pleased to welcome the Minister's daughter, Ginny Weasley, into the studio," Charles continued as the camera moved to focus on Ginny, sitting comfortably in her seat with a smile on her face.

"Now, Ginny," Grace turned, a light of excitement in her eye. "There is undoubtedly a lot to talk about, being related both to the Minister and the Political Strategy Director, but first I'd like to talk about Harry Potter."

"Of course," Ginny laughed. "Since the news came out that's all anyone's ever asked me."

"Well we apologise for this then," Charles said with a smile. "But, what is it like dating a man who not only has an incredibly difficult and demanding job in the Ministry but is also under the direct employment of your own father."

"Well, where do I start?" Ginny said with a smile, causing the two presenters to chuckle. "I think one thing I'd like to say is that Harry is always very attentive to me. You may think that someone who has so much stress in their job might not be able to focus so much on their personal lives, but Harry isn't like that at all. In fact, I'd bet you anything that he's watching this interview right now."

Harry chuckled alongside the presenters as he sat in his office, watching his TV as his girlfriend dazzled the audience with another smile.

"Harry," Cho said from his office door, but Harry held up a hand to stop her, attention solely focused on the television.

"But, aside from Harry himself, how do you think your brother and father have taken to your relationship?" Charles asked on screen.

"Well, my brother loves Harry," Ginny said. "Seriously, Ron is closer to Harry than he is to any member of his actual family."

"And the Minister?" Charles asked.

"My father," Ginny said with a smile. "Actually likes Harry a lot too. He's worked with him for a long time now and he's grown to respect him, I think. Of course, Harry respects him too. I'd say my whole family quite like Harry, particularly the one's that have met him."

Harry tore his attention away from the TV as the interview moved away from the subject of himself. Nodding to Cho, Harry noted the three men who were waiting behind her, each of them in different stages of impatience.

"Harry, these men represent the protest group called the Scales Union," Cho introduced them, gesturing for the men to enter the office.

"Nice to meet you," Harry greeted, holding out his hand to be shaken by each of the three men in turn.

"Same here," smiled the middle man back, who revealed himself to have a soft english accent to contrast with the two eastern europeans that had joined him. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ashton Jameson. These are my associates, Sergej Ivov and Bogdan Petran."

Harry nodded respectfully to the other two men. "Given the name of your organisation I think I can guess your purpose here," Harry said, taking his seat behind his desk as Cho produced a third seat for the visitors. "You don't want foreign dragons in Wales."

"No," Ashton said. "We don't, that is not where they belong."

"The fact that we've got some of the foremost experts working to make the reserve hospitable for the foreign dragons doesn't have any effect on your opinion?" Harry asked.

"You can try to recreate the conditions of other countries," Ashton agreed. "But it will get nowhere near close to the real thing."

"We can get close enough," Harry suggested.

"Says you," Bogdan said angrily, his voice a low grumble.

"Says twenty six dragon experts," Harry countered. "Including the grandfather-grandson team of Newt and Rolf Scamander. You've heard of them, I take it?"

"We understand that there has been a lot of work down on this," Ashton said, trying to moderate the discussion as Bogdan growled under his breath. "But Hungarian Horntails belong in Hungary, Portuguese Long-snouts belong in Portugal and Chinese Fireballs belong in China. That's where they thrive and that is where we should keep them."

"I understand your point," Harry told them. "Really, I do. I even agree with them, to an extent. The thing you've got to understand is this is not just about dragons."

"Then what is this about?" asked Sergej.

"International diplomacy," Harry answered. "The various Ministries across the wizarding world have often failed to work together and this is a symbol of cooperation between once divided nations."

"So, this is just for a symbol?" Ashton asked, amazement shown through his tone. "These are real creatures being subjected to this relocation just for a symbol?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "And it's been shown to work. Does anyone remember the attempt to revive the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

"The first task," Sergej noted quietly. "A Swedish Short-snout, Hungarian Horntail and Chinese Fireball were brought to the grounds of Hogwarts."

"I've looked through the records," Harry told them. "There were no meetings from your organisation telling us we shouldn't have done that, even when it was more inconvenient for the dragons involved."

"That was our failing," Ashton replied. "We should have fought that just like we fight this. You can't play with dragons like this for political reasons."

"I can't?" Harry questioned, raising an eyebrow. "We are getting contributions from nations all across the globe. Argentina, Peru, South Africa, recognise a trend? These are unstable states with governments who are only just coming into being. The effect of accepting such a gift and thereby accepting these states into the international community is huge for them."

Harry sighed as he looked at the three men before him, knowing he would never be able to persuade them completely. "I'm sorry, but this is bigger than just a few dragons," he said. "Maybe the dragons won't be quite as well off here, we'll try to make it not so. But it's worth it just for the idea that the Chinese and United States governments could work together, or the Russians and the Germans. It may be a symbol, but it's an important one that just means so much."

There was silence in the room as he finished talking, the three representatives taking his words in with varying levels of acceptance. "I can see we're not going to convince you," Ashton said sadly. "It's perhaps best that we don't waste anymore of your time."

He rose to his feet, Petran rising with him, glaring hatefully at Harry as he did so. Sergej Ivov took a bit longer to stand, having seemed to be considering Harry's words much more deeply than the other two.

"My brother worked in the Bulgarian Ministry," he said as he eventually rose, his English coming out in a brittle stutter. "He was killed by agents of Russia. Are you saying that this could help stop that happening?"

"I'm saying it might," Harry said softly. "Things like these, they're no guarantee of peace. But if we do continue to work together rather than on our own, then perhaps we may succeed."

Sergej nodded in acceptance of that. Ashton seemed torn as he thought about leaving the office, eventually choosing to follow Petran who stomped furiously ahead of him. Sergej followed at a slower pace, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"I'm sorry about your brother," Harry said as he left the office.

Sergej grunted at that. "He was a good man," he said sadly. "He did not deserve that." He left with those parting words, leaving the office in silence with his departure.

"Cho," Harry called out eventually. Cho hurried to his office door, clearly having been lingering there ever since Petran stormed out. "I'm going to go and tell the Minister about this," he told her as he rounded his desk. "I need you to hold any calls for when I get back."

Cho nodded and returned quickly to her desk as Harry walked past, making his way towards the Minister's office.

"Hey," Ginny said brightly as she sidled along beside him. "I just finished with my interview, were you watching?"

"You seemed pretty confident I would be," Harry smiled at her as he replied. "By the way, it probably wasn't the best idea to tell the world that your entire family didn't have a problem with me."

Ginny shrugged. "They don't," she responded. "At least the ones that have met you."

"That's where the problem lies," Harry told her. "I haven't met Percy, Charlie or your mother."

"Well, Charlie's still in the Ministry last I heard," Ginny replied. "Maybe you'll get the introduction you so crave."

"Maybe," Harry replied. "Wait? Charlie is still here? He hasn't finished speaking with the Minister yet?"

"I don't think so," Ginny replied. "Why?"

"I need to talk to the Minister before he goes on air," Harry told her. "I'm actually on my way there now. Are you sure Charlie is still there?"

Ginny shrugged. "He was at the start of my interview," she told him.

"Alright," Harry sighed as he reached the outer office. "Daphne, is he free?"

"He's still speaking with Charlie," Daphne replied, a slight note of worry in her voice.

"Do you think it's okay if I interrupt?" Harry asked nervously, not sure just how serious the conversation going on beyond the door was.

"I'm not sure," Daphne said, biting her lip. "It's quiet now but earlier I heard shouting."

Harry didn't like the sound of that. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Harry made up his mind. "I've got to go in," he announced.

"I'll leave you to it," Ginny told him, patting him on the arm before exiting the outer office. Trying to take all the strength he could from the gesture, Harry knocked on the door and entered.

"Sir? I'm sorry to interrupt but I have to speak with you," Harry said, trying not to sound too nervous as he opened the door. Inside he found the Minister sitting in his favourite armchair, his face pale while Charlie stood before him. It seemed to take a while for the Minister's eyes to take him in.

"Yes, Harry?" he asked, his voice hoarse as he spoke. "You needed to speak with me?"

Harry nodded, his worries increasing from hearing the Minister's tone. "Yes, I wanted to tell you that I've met with the Scales Union," he said. "They recognise we aren't going to change our position but they aren't happy about it. I also needed to talk to you about the closing address for the interview, sir."

The Minister nodded slowly, his expression leading Harry to believe he wasn't all there.

"I could wait a bit if you need some time," Harry said, tentatively. "I just need to speak with you before you go on air."

The Minister's nods became more firm. "Yes," he said hoarsely. "Thank you Harry, if you could just give us a moment?" Harry nodded, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him, leaving Charlie and the Minister alone again.

"So," the Minister said slowly, leaning forward in his seat. "You're gay." Charlie nodded. "And you've known for two years?" Again Charlie nodded. "Then why didn't you say something?"

"When?" Charlie asked shakily, the adrenaline having left his body. "I haven't had the opportunity to talk to you since you first started your campaign."

"You could have called," the Minister said. "You could have come visit."

"You're too busy," Charlie denied. "There's always work you have to do, you just don't make time for your family anymore."

"That's not fair," the Minister argued. "This is a very time consuming job."

"I know," Charlie said. "I know. But that didn't stop you before." He sighed as he sat down on the sofa. "When I was growing up you used to work late so often," he said. "Some weeks we'd barely see you. But you made time for us. Whenever you had a free moment you were there to talk to us and play with us, and I know that now we're all grown up and it's not as easy anymore but that doesn't mean we should stop trying."

There was silence as Charlie finished speaking. The Minister mulled over Charlie's words carefully, wondering just how much of this was the truth. They were, however, interrupted as Daphne walked into the office, Harry right behind her.

"Minister, I'm afraid it's time for your interview," Daphne told him.

The Minister nodded, before he pulled himself up to his feet. Caught in two minds, he stood there for a moment, before walking to his desk. He picked up his phone and quickly punched in a number, waiting patiently for someone to pick up.

"Hey Fred, this is your father," he said as the phone was answered, his gaze directed at Charlie. "Yep, I just wanted to tell you that Charlie's in town so we're gathering everyone up at the Burrow for dinner tonight. Tell George and feel free to bring along any significant others you may have lurking around that I don't know about." He hung up the phone.

"Daphne, can you relay that message to Bill and Percy, and tell Ron and Ginny while you're at it," he told his assistant, who quickly strode away to do her task. "Harry, you of course are welcome to join us if you wish."

"Thank you sir," Harry said sincerely. "Just before you go I need to speak with you."

"About the closing address," the Minister responded. "I've had a good read over it already."

"Great," Harry replied. "Just make sure to speak clearly and confidently, and leave a short pause before you deliver the last line."

"I'll remember that," the Minister told him, nodding to him in dismissal. Once Harry had left, the Minister turned back to his second son. "You were right, I need to make more of an effort to keep in touch with my children," the Minister admitted.

"Thank you," Charlie said gratefully. "And I promise I'll do a better job of keeping in touch with you."

The Minister smiled. "Well, I think that's all we can ask of each other," he said lightly. "Now, why don't you head home and warn your mother she's going to be having guests. I imagine she'll be more than excited to have everyone back together again."

"Yes sir," Charlie said with a smile, exiting the office and briefly leaving the Minister on his own.

"Minister," Blaise said as he walked into the office.

"Yeah," the Minister nodded, striding past Blaise and out into the corridor.

* * *

"Well, I'm afraid we're coming to the end of our interview," Charles said with a sad smile.

"Already?" the Minister asked, feigning disappointment.

"Yes, we've just got time for one last closing statement," Charles said to the camera, before turning to the Minister. "Would you like to do the honours?"

"Certainly," the Minister said with a smile. "First, I'd like to thank the show for speaking with us, it's been a pleasure." The presenters shared a smile at that before the camera focused on the Minister, whose face had become more serious.

"Over the course of the last few hours you have had the opportunity to get a glimpse of what we, as people, are like in this Ministry," the Minister said, his eyes looking past the cameras and instead watching the various members of staff and family who had gathered to hear his closing address.

"There is one thing that hasn't been said today," he continued. "And quite frankly I'm not surprised, for it is something that many of the people here wish not to talk about. Working in the Ministry is hard. Everyone you've talked to today, even my daughter Ginny, have sacrificed a great deal for this Ministry. You may feel surprised that Hermione does not worry about being the only female member of the Senior Staff, or you may not agree with Ron on his belief that the Chudley Cannons are the best quidditch team, or you may think that we should not trust Remus for being a werewolf, but in here, that doesn't matter."

The Minister paused at that, his gaze staring straight into the camera as though he was watching everyone in front of their TV. "In the Ministry we put aside our personal differences to work together, for the good of our nation, and it is on that note that I leave you this evening. This has been your Ministry and we thank you for watching. Have a good night."

"And we're out," the director called. "Great work everybody." Applause broke out among the crew members, congratulating themselves on a job well done. The various members of staff started clapping too, except they were doing so for the Minister alone.

Shifting in his seat, the Minister caught Harry's eye. With a slight nod a thought was passed between them, congratulating each other silently. It had been a risky idea, and one that not all were happy with, but in the end it was a job well done.


	7. Halloween

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Good morning, Harry," Ron said as he fell into step beside him, having just entered through the Ministry apparition point.

"Is it?" Harry asked sourly, scowling at the various decorations littering the Ministry Atrium as he made his way to the elevators.

"Okay, maybe not for you," Ron amended, eyeing Harry warily as they walked past a nest of real live bats.

Harry just scowled, glaring as a bat swooped into the elevator after them and hung itself up from the ceiling. They waited patiently as the elevator brought them up to level one, various workers coming and going as they rose higher in the Ministry. Eventually the doors opened at the final stop, prompting the bat to fly out down the corridor.

"So let me ask," Ron said as he walked along side Harry. "Are you going to stay in a mood all day like you did last year, or are you going to perk up again like the year before that?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows?" he said. "Depends what happens." Harry walked into his office, shrugging off his coat and placing it on the back of his chair as Ron entered his own office.

"But if nothing big happens you'll just stay like this?" Ron asked as he reentered Harry's office, having dumped his cloak and bag into his own.

Harry shrugged, not entirely sure how best to answer that. "Cho!"

"Hey guys, Happy Halloween," Cho said cheerfully as she strode into his office.

"Shut up," Harry replied coldly.

"What?" Cho asked in astonishment. "Why? What did I do? I only wished you a happy Halloween."

"Exactly," Ron said, raising his eyebrows at her. "Harry doesn't like Halloween."

"I hate Halloween," Harry cut in vehemently, sitting behind his desk and glaring at the files lying on top of it.

"How could you forget that?" Ron asked, confused. "Harry's like this every Halloween."

"I was sick last Halloween," Cho pointed out, before quickly continuing before Ron could speak again. "And I hadn't joined the election campaign by Halloween the year before that. Why don't you like Halloween?"

"Bad things happen on Halloween," Harry said darkly.

"That's just superstition," Cho waved away.

"No, it's true," Ron told her. "Bad things happen on Halloween, for Harry at least."

"Yes, and on that topic, where did these chocolates come from?" Harry asked, holding the lid to a box filled with various Halloween themed treats as though it were something nasty he'd just scraped off the sole of his shoe. "I hope this wasn't you."

"It wasn't," Cho denied. "A delivery wizard brought it through for you so I put it in your office. Ron, you've got one too."

"I do?" Ron asked in surprise, turning to look around the wall separating his office from Harry's. "Oh," he said with realisation. "Yeah, I think they might be from my mum."

"Your mum?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah," Ron replied, blushing slightly in embarrassment. "She does this sometimes, although usually only at Christmas." Ron paused as he considered the chocolates. "Actually, it's a really good sign she sent you these. Unless they're poisoned."

Harry grimaced, feeling bad for yet another reason. "Cho, why don't you take these and pass them around the staff," Harry said, placing the lid back on the box and handing them to Cho. "If I'm not going to eat them then at least someone else will."

Cho gave Harry an odd look as she accepted the box, before turning and walking back to the outer workspaces.

"You going to see Ginny today?" Ron asked, suddenly getting more serious as Cho left the room.

Harry shook his head. "It was hard to convince her to stay away, particularly after last year," he said sadly, vividly remembering the hard time he'd gone through. "But it's better for me to deal with this on my own. I don't want her to have to see me like that again."

Ron nodded in acceptance. "I know you aren't going to take me up on my offer," Ron said, taking a step towards Harry. "But, you know, if you do need to talk to anyone, I'll be right next door."

Harry gave a sad smile. "Thanks Ron," he said gratefully. "Hopefully it won't be too bad today, but thank you for the offer anyway."

Ron returned his sad smile with one of his own, falling silent as Cho walked back into the room. "Harry, the Minister wants to see you," she told him as she entered the office.

"Just Harry?" Ron asked, to which Cho nodded. "Mustn't be anything important then," he dismissed off handedly.

"Did they say what the Minister wanted to talk about?" Harry asked Cho, setting his papers back down on the desk as he stood up. Cho shook her head. "Alright, see you later."

Harry strolled out of his office, glowering as he took note of the decorations that littered even the top floor of the Ministry building. Turning the corner, Harry found himself walking alongside Remus.

"Hey Harry, how are you?" Remus asked softly, his voice lacking the usual warmth it held when speaking to him.

"Not happy," Harry replied. "But no worse than could be expected. How are you holding up?"

Remus took a long suffering breath. "I'd say pretty much the same," he sighed. "I was accosted by a Ministry employee dressed as a clown earlier. You'd have thought wizards would be better at making Halloween costumes than muggles are." Harry shrugged. "Are you meeting the Minister?"

"Yeah, you too?" Harry replied. "What do you think he wants to talk about?" Remus shrugged as they entered the outer office, watching as Blaise quickly put away his fake fangs he'd been showing Daphne.

"Sorry," he apologised humbly, stuffing the Halloween accessory into a drawer.

"The Minister is waiting for you," Daphne told them, her voice sympathetic as they passed. Harry and Remus tried to ignore the looks they were getting from the two staff members, but it was difficult when they were so acutely aware of them.

"You wanted to see us?" Harry asked as he led Remus into the Minister's office, which thankfully was completely free of Halloween decorations.

"Yes, please, come on in," the Minister gesture them inside as he stood behind his desk, a report held in his hand. He placed the report down on the desk as he waited patiently for the two men to join him.

"I've got something to tell the two of you," he said seriously. "It's not nice, it's not pleasant. I just want you to hear it from me, rather than the press when they find out." Harry and Remus glanced at each other with worried expressions before turning back to the Minister.

The Minister sighed, leaning forward on his desk to view the report upon it. "At 8:22 this morning quidditch merchandise salesman Clifford Fairchild was arrested by Ministry aurors at the scene of the crime after having murdered dangerous fugitive Bellatrix LeStrange on a Birmingham estate," the Minister read, glancing up at the whitening faces of the two men before him.

"Mr Fairchild is currently in Ministry custody and will soon be tried, the natural sentence to be handed down being life in Azkaban for the use of one of the three Unforgivable Curses," the Minister finished, slowly removing his glasses as he straightened up. "I felt you guys should hear this first."

"Yeah," Harry said faintly, his skin deathly pale as he stared unseeing at the report on the desk. "That's… yeah, thanks," he mumbled incoherently, shifting on the spot as he continued to stare at the parchment.

"Harry," the Minister said softly, bringing Harry's attention to him.

"No, no, this was good," Harry told him, nodding his head shakily. "I should… go, back to my office… I've got work, you know…"

"Harry," the Minister said again, his tone pleading. "Please, stay and talk about this."

"No," Harry shook his head as he jerkily back away. "There's no need. The facts are facts, and it's good that I know them. Thank you." He hovered awkwardly for a moment, standing several meters away from the desk by this point with the door not far behind him. With another glance at the report, Harry turned and left the room, nearly tripping himself up through his own jerky movements.

The Minister sighed sadly as he went, not knowing how to make things any better for the young man. "This is not what he needs right now," he sighed, sitting wearily down behind his desk.

"What he needed was a day without bother," Remus said softly. "That wasn't going to happen in this place."

The Minister sighed again as he recognised the truth of the statement, reaching up to rub at his tired eyes. "How are you taking this?" the Minister asked Remus, looking up in concern at the grey haired man.

"Not good," Remus replied honestly. "But I've come to terms with what happened to my friends a long time ago," he admitted. "For Harry, we're talking about the woman who ruined his life."

The Minister nodded in agreement. "Things aren't going to be particularly happy round here for awhile," he said sagely, his gaze flickering almost against his will to Amos's office door.

"You've told Amos, have you?" Remus said, having caught the subtle glance from the Minister. "How did he take it?"

"Stoically," the Minister replied with a warped smile. "Like he takes everything. He'll keep all this locked up inside him until it eats him alive. It's happened before."

"When Cedric died?" Remus asked. "I heard rumours but I knew better than to simply believe them."

"The rumours were more true than we wished them to be," the Minister said sadly. "And the worst thing is we didn't know about it until it was too late."

"Someone should talk to him," Remus said, although his body language gave a quite clear indication of who that someone should be.

"I will," the Minister promised. "I just wanted to let you two know first." Remus nodded his acceptance of his answer, before he quietly made his way to the door. "Will Harry be okay?" the Minister asked as Remus reached the door, now standing behind his desk.

"Harry will brood in silence," Remus said quietly. "He will get more aggressive to other people, more agitated and more angry until he eventually explodes. Then he'll realise we're all there for him for when he has to pick up the pieces. Trust me, Minister, Harry will be fine."

The Minister nodded his acceptance as Remus left the office, yet the worry he felt did not leave him as he stood alone. Slowly and silently, the Minister walked up to the door of Amos's office, and opened it.

Amos was sitting behind his desk, scribbling away on a report in front of him when the Minister entered, not even looking up as the Minister walked closer.

"Amos," he said quietly as he stood over him, watching his old friend with pain in his eyes. "Amos, perhaps we should talk about this."

"I can't, Minister," Amos replied, his tone almost business like. Yet the Minister could hear the stressed undertone that a passer bye would have missed. "I've got a lot of work to do, especially with Ambassador Diaz travelling to Argentina today."

"This won't take long," the Minister promised, knowing he was lying through his teeth as he did so.

"I'm afraid I can't afford to take the time to get into this with you," Amos said again, his voice becoming more obviously strained as his quill started to scratch harder across the parchment. "As soon as Diaz arrives at the Argentinian Ministry I'll need to be on the phone the whole time to help verify his credentials and confirm his appointment."

"Then you have time now," the Minister pressed on. "Amos…"

"Arthur," Amos snapped, thumping his fists down on the desk as he looked up at him abruptly. "Minister," he corrected himself as he unclenched his fists, wincing as he noticed ink spill onto his report from the quill he'd crushed in his hands.

"Amos, you're hurting," the Minister said urgently. "You need to talk about this."

"I can't," Amos ground out, seemingly trying to control his frustration. "I can't get into this now. If I try to talk about it, about her, about Cedric…" he shook his head as the very name of his son brought him pain. "I'll be useless, and today I can't afford to be useless."

The Minister nodded sadly. "Okay," he said softly, his eyes downcast as he looked at his Chief of Staff. "I'll let it go, for now. But when you have the time, come talk to me."

Amos nodded in response. "I will, Minister," he promised. The Minister looked at him for a moment longer, biting his lip as if to restrain himself from speaking, before he walked back into his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

* * *

Hermione hesitated at the door of Harry's office, worried how he'd react to her presence. Eventually she forced herself to take the step over the threshold, knocking timidly on the door as she did so.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said quietly as he glanced up at her, looking over a mountain of legal documents to see the obviously nervous Press Secretary.

"Hey," she replied softly, walking forward and sinking into the seat opposite him, all the while looking at him with a sorrowful look on her face. "I just got briefed by the Minister," she told him. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

Harry considered her carefully as she waited for his answer. "What did the Minister say?" Harry asked, prompting confusion to fall across Hermione's face. "The Minister didn't go into details with me; what exactly happened?"

Hermione hesitated for a brief moment, before deciding to grant his request. "Clifford Fairchild is a 58 year old caucasian man born in Leeds but recently residing in Darlington for the last twenty two years where he lived with his wife Annabelle, now deceased, and his currently 21 year old daughter, Josephine." Hermione paused as she finished her description, before moving on.

"12 years ago Fairchild's parents were murdered in their own home in Leeds one November night," Hermione continued. "Bellatrix LeStrange was seen leaving the sight after burning down the house. In the early hours of this morning, Fairchild snuck into LeStrange's hideaway in a Birmingham estate and killed her in her sleep with a single killing curse. He then stayed there until morning when he was eventually found by the auror division. His behaviour has been described as calm and peaceful."

Harry contemplated what she said carefully, slowly twirling a quill in his hand as he thought. "He stayed at the scene of the crime?" Harry asked. "How long had he been there?"

"Upon examination of the body it is thought that LeStrange was killed roughly five hours before we found her," Hermione informed him. "We currently don't know the reasoning behind Fairchild's decision to stay. We're still interrogating him as we speak."

Harry nodded. "Seems odd," Harry muttered. "I mean, the first thing you do after committing a crime is try to get away."

"Maybe he was in shock," Hermione suggested.

Harry shook his head. "You said he was calm and peaceful when they took him in," he reminded her. "No, he knew what he was doing when he waited there. He wanted to be caught. But why?"

"Maybe he recognised that he committed a crime," Hermione said. "Reports describe him as a reasonable man in his daily profession. Perhaps he felt he should pay for his crimes just like anyone else."

"Is it really a crime?" Harry asked rhetorically. "We put down rabid animals all the time, why is it different in this case?"

"Because this was a human," Hermione pointed out earnestly. "We have different standards when it comes to human life."

"Can you even call her human?" Harry retorted. "LeStrange has more crimes against her name than anyone in the world. She is a rabid animal, why should we punish someone for putting her down?"

"Because it is still murder," Hermione argued back. "We can't go around being judge, jury and executioner. LeStrange has committed some simply heinous crimes but we should punish that with our laws. Life in Azkaban. The dementors kiss. We have mechanisms for punishing people like her. We can't let people take matters like this into their own hands."

"This isn't any normal case," Harry argued. "This is LeStrange, the world is better off without her and who can seriously argue against that? Should Cliff Fairchild have instead tied LeStrange up and delivered her to the auror office? Yeah. But how can we honestly sentence this man to life in Azkaban just for ridding our world of a being so foul?"

"It's the law," Hermione argued back. "We can't start making exceptions just for this case. It's a slippery road and eventually we're going to let people get away with too much and then all hell will break loose."

"I don't have to make exceptions in the law," Harry countered her, slamming his fist down on one of the texts before him. "Look at what I've found. There are so many ancient outdated laws that there's almost bound to be a way I can get Fairchild off, or at least get his sentence reduced."

"Just because we can doesn't mean we should," Hermione argued back. "In case you've forgotten, we've been trying to repeal so many of these ancient archaic laws because they allow people to get away with things that are simply not right."

"Then why shouldn't we for once use them to our advantage," Harry shouted. "Every time we try to do something these laws hold us back and for the first time ever we can actually use them."

There was a knock on the door. "Harry, Alicia Ward is here to see you," Cho said as she opened the door, watching the two colleagues with wary eyes.

"Harry, who's Alicia Ward?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing as Harry deliberately looked away. "Harry, who is she?" Harry's lack of response was all Hermione needed. "Alicia Fairchild," she shouted at him angrily, slamming her hands down on the desk as she stared furiously down at him. "Harry, this is beyond stupid."

"Well, I'm doing it," Harry shouted back, silencing Hermione instantly. "You may think what I'm doing is wrong but think about this. In another world, in another universe, that's me down there in the Ministry holding cell, that's me feeling the satisfaction of finally getting my revenge."

"Harry," Hermione moaned, her expression changing from angry to pleading. "Harry, don't let your emotions rule over your common sense. You know what the right thing to do is."

"Maybe," Harry said stubbornly. "But that doesn't matter to me right now. Cliff Fairchild has got my revenge for me. For my mum, my dad, Sirius, they were all avenged this morning. I'm not going to just let this man rot away if I can help it."

Hermione looked at him sadly. "I can't help if you truly think this is right," Hermione told him sadly. "I know you're hurting but you're going to end up regretting this. Don't do this, Harry."

Harry showed no sign of answering her, instead choosing to stare at her as she left his office, walking past a worried looking Cho in the doorway. "Send her in," Harry ordered. Cho glanced rapidly between Harry and Hermione as she struggled to make her choice. "Send her in," Harry repeated firmly.

Cho did as she was told, albeit reluctantly as she left Harry's sight. Within a few seconds Harry was joined by another woman, whose brown hair was streaked with grey as she walked into the room.

"Alicia Ward?" Harry asked as the woman walked into the room. "Please, take a seat." Alicia took the offered chair with little hesitation, seemingly in need of a seat after waiting on her feet outside his office. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to see me," Harry started.

"You want to talk about my brother," Alicia said immediately, seemingly unperturbed by the circumstances her brother had found himself in. "I've already told the aurors all I know."

"I know, and we thank you for your cooperation," Harry replied smoothly. "The aurors are currently busy speaking with your brother at the moment and they wanted me to talk to you about a matter they felt they hadn't covered in more depth."

"Okay," Alicia responded, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you want to know?"

Harry smiled at her politely. "Perhaps if you could describe your brothers behaviour between the day of your parents' murder and today," Harry suggested.

"I've been over this already," Alicia responded angrily. "My brother was not happy at all before all this happened. He took our parents' deaths incredibly hard and in the time since he's been desperate to get the one who did it. I told him to stop and let the aurors handle it but he insisted on going out, nights on end, to try and find that woman."

"You were never interested in joining him?" Harry asked. "Even though you knew this woman had killed your parents."

"No," Alicia answered firmly. "And before this all happened I'd never have imagined Cliff would either. His reaction was a shock, no one expected him to change like this."

"Is it really so much of a shock?" Harry asked. "I mean, his parents were killed by a mad woman who had done this many times before. Some would argue that what he did was the natural response to something like this."

"Then they would be idiots," Alicia said shortly.

"Really," Harry replied, getting angry. "People who want to avenge their relatives' deaths are idiots? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You coming in here telling me about how your brother was wrong, like he was an idiot, is just disrespectful."

"Why does this matter to you?" Alicia argued back. "This is my brother we are talking about, those were my parents and she was my parents' murderer. Why are you taking this so personally?"

"Because it is personal," Harry bellowed. "Do you think your parents were the first? LeStrange has killed so many people, for nothing more than fun. You may call your brother a fool but this world should rejoice now that she's gone, not send the one responsible into an eternity of torture."

There was silence as Harry finished speaking, standing up and leaning over his desk with a finger jabbed meaningfully onto the wood. Alicia just stared up at him, handbag held in her lap as she regarded him with amazed eyes.

"You're unbelievable," she said, her voice quivering. "If that's all you have to say then I'll be going. Good day to you," she huffed as she rose to her feet and bustled out the door, not for one moment looking back.

Harry stayed stock still as she left, breathing heavily as his mind processed the conversation he'd just had. It was like this that Cho discovered him.

"Harry," she said tentatively, tapping on his door. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, Cho," Harry said, snapping out of his stupor as he placed his focus on his assistant instead. "What do you need?"

"I just got a call from Amos's office," Cho told him cautiously. "Ambassador Diaz is in hospital after arriving in Argentina."

"He was attacked?" Harry asked in shock, his eyes widening.

Cho shook her head. "The message suggested it was something about the journey that set him off," she informed him. "Amos is going to Argentina right now to see what's going on, he just wanted to keep you up to date."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, Amos will be able to deal with that," he said softly. "Thank you, Cho." Cho nodded before she tuned and left, leaving Harry alone in his office with stacks of legal papers lying around him.

* * *

Amos staggered as he hit the ground hard, the trans-continental port key depositing him roughly at the arrival station. Immediately he was surrounded by several officials and medical experts, each of them ensuring that he was okay after the long journey.

Amos shrugged them off as politely as he could as he stepped away from the port key centre, instead making his way towards the door, where the Argentinian Head of Magical Transportation was standing waiting for him.

"Welcome Amos, it's good to see you again," the man said in very deliberately pronounced English. Amos nodded to him, his face a mask of worry. "I apologise for the fuss upon your arrival but things have been very tense around here since the accident."

"I understand," Amos said, his tone indicating that he was in no mood for small talk. "Where is Ambassador Diaz?"

"He's in the Ministry infirmary," the man replied. "Considering the circumstances around his injury we thought it best not to move him through magical means."

Amos nodded in understanding. "How is he?" he asked as the man led him out of the arrivals room and into the Ministry proper.

"It's hard to tell," the man responded. "I've been kept somewhat up to date on your behalf but there is a lot of medical stuff that I just don't understand. What I can tell you is that they have finished operating on him and he is stable, but it is unknown how well he will recover."

Amos nodded along as the man spoke, his mind whirling as he strode through the packed Ministry, Spanish words flying around him in an incoherent jumble.

"Here we are," the man said as he reached a big set of double doors with a reception desk sitting next to it. "Amos Diggory para Stewart Diaz," he told the man behind the desk, who nodded after consulting a list in front of him and gestured them through.

"This is where I must leave you," the man said. "I'm not authorised to go any further."

"Thank you," Amos said as the Head of Magical Transportation walked away, soon to be engulfed by the crowd. Amos stepped through the double doors, immediately noticing how empty the room beyond was.

"Oh, Amos," Meredith Diaz jumped out of her seat and threw herself into his arms, sobbing into his neck. "Thank god you're here, I didn't know what to do."

"It's alright," Amos said soothingly, patting her on the back as she started to pull herself together. "It's okay. Now, can you tell me what happened?"

Meredith nodded tearfully, dabbing at her eyes. "It was all so sudden," she said pitifully. "We just arrived here and he collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain. No one knew what to do so they eventually put a silencing charm on him and then rushed him up here."

"Have the doctors talked to you since?" Amos asked.

"They said he was stable," Meredith nodded. "But they also said they don't know how well he'll recover."

"Mrs Diaz," a slightly accented voice said from across the room, gaining their attention. "I've got an update on your husband," he said as he came closer. "if perhaps you want to move to a private room."

Meredith shook her head. "I want Amos to hear as well," she said shakily. "He deserves to know."

"Amos Diggory, British Ministry of Magic Chief of Staff," Amos introduced, bringing recognition to the doctors face.

"Of course, my apologies," the doctor replied. "I'm Dr Dominguez, I'm in charge of Mr Diaz's health whilst he's with us." Amos nodded for him to continue. "Before I go on, can I just ask, has Mr Diaz taken any potions today?"

Meredith nodded. "Yes, he took a Pepper-up potion this morning," she told him. "But nothing else."

Dr Dominguez sighed. "I believe the Pepper-up potion may have been contaminated with another ingredient," he told them. "Flux-weed, to be exact. Normally it is completely harmless when traces of it get into other potions but on this occasion it caused a tiny pocket of fluid to build up near the base of his spine which, due to the pressures of trans-continental travel, ruptured. We've done our best to repair the damage but we'll only know how successful we've been when he wakes up."

"How long should that be?" Amos asked.

"It's hard to be entirely sure how long our potions will keep him knocked out given the other substances running through his system," Dr Dominguez told him. "I would say that five hours would be the absolute maximum length of time he will remain unconscious."

"But what would you suggest is the likely time?" Amos pressed.

Dr Domingues scratched his chin thoughtful. "Anywhere between two to three hours would be most likely," he said. "But as I said, I can't make any promises. Perhaps you would like to wait somewhere more comfortable?"

Meredith shook her head. "I'll be staying here," she said firmly. "When my husband wakes up I want to be there for him."

The doctor nodded. "And you, Mr Diggory?" he asked. "I assume you've got a lot of work to get to?"

"You'll stay, won't you Amos?" Meredith asked hopefully, subconsciously tightening her grip on his arm.

"I've got my phone with me," he said. "I'll be able to keep up with my work from here." Meredith hugged him tightly at that, to which Amos responded with a hug back, nodding respectfully to the doctor over Meredith's shoulder.

"I'll let you know if anything changes," Dr Dominguez promised as he walked away.

* * *

"It can't go on," Hermione said frustratedly, pacing back and forth in front of Ron's desk as she ranted. "He can't do this."

"Have you tried to stop him?" Ron asked, starting to get tired of Hermione's ravings.

"Oh yeah, did you not hear us?" Hermione asked scornfully. "I gave him a piece of my mind, I told him how stupid he was being, how much he was risking…"

"And yet he's going through with it anyway," Ron pointed out. "Sometimes you forget how stubborn Harry can be. Remember when he heard that Sirius had been killed? He didn't speak to anyone for over a month. Dumbledore eventually had to intervene because his grades were doing so poorly."

"I remember, Ron," Hermione said miserably, slumping down into the chair across from him. "I just wish it wasn't like this. Why is Harry not able to take it better now that it's been so long ago?"

"You don't mean that," Ron said quietly, catching her gaze. "You're not blaming Harry for this. You know how much he loved Sirius and you know how much it hurt him. If it were you in his situation I doubt you would have handled it as well as Harry has, and I know I wouldn't either."

Hermione grimaced in apology. "I know," she whispered sadly, her head downcast. "I just wish it didn't have to be this way. Why did this have to happen on Halloween?"

"Do you really think it would have been any better on any other day of the year?" Ron asked, eyebrows raised.

"Maybe not," Hermione sighed. "And maybe after this Harry will be better. I'm just worried he's going to do something rash and stupid."

"Like call on the sister of the murderer for questions?" Ron suggested. "I think we're okay, he can't do anything worse, can he?"

Hermione and Ron shared a look, the obvious answer passing between them like a visible train of thought. "Damn," Ron swore. "That's it, I'm phoning Ginny. I don't care what Harry says, she's the only one that can calm him down."

Ron had already reached for the phone and started dialling when Harry walked past his office door.

"Harry," he called after him, jumping from his seat and following him outside. By the time he'd been able to exit his office, however, Harry had made his way out of sight, leaving Ron with no clue to where he'd gone.

* * *

Harry walked swiftly and purposeful onward, paying no attention to passing workers as they bustled around with their own lives. Reaching the elevators, Harry pressed the button for level two and waited impatiently for the doors to close, tapping his foot on the ground until finally the grill slid shut.

He walked swiftly through the Auror department, ignoring the funny looks he was getting from members of staff who were surprised to find him on their level. Harry paid them no mind until he reached the door he was searching for.

The waiting room for the Ministry interrogation Centre was nearly empty, only a handful of people sitting on cold stone benches with a single auror manning the reception desk.

"Harry." Harry was stopped halfway across the waiting room by the melodic voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had clearly followed him in as he strode gracefully through the door. "Can I have a word with you?"

Harry allowed Kingsley to take him across to the corner of the room, the two of them keeping their voices low to avoid being overheard. "Don't do this," Kingsley warned him.

"Why not?" Harry asked tiredly. "What harm will it do to see the man?"

"Harry, we both know you're not going to stop at just seeing the man," Kingsley told him, looking him in the eye as Harry tried to avoid his gaze. "You want to find anything that will get him off. Well, I'm going to tell you now that this is an open and shut case."

"Still, I need to talk to him," Harry said belligerently.

"Harry, you have no authority to speak to him," Kingsley told him vehemently. "You are the Communications Director, that doesn't give you the right to get involved in criminal investigations. You could get into a lot of trouble if anyone finds out what you've been doing."

Harry paused at that, catching on to what Kingsley wasn't saying. "You know about that?" Harry asked, making sure not to specify what he was talking about.

"She complained to the auror department about your behaviour," Kingsley informed him. "What were you thinking, claiming to speak with her on behalf of the auror department? I took the heat for you, Harry, but you've got to start thinking straight and realise that you can't go on like this."

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Then what am I supposed to do, Kingsley?" he asked desperately. "I can't just do nothing. I need to talk to him."

Kingsley regarded him thoughtfully for a minute, giving no hint to what he was thinking. "Okay," he said quietly. "You can speak to him. But I'm coming with you."

"You are?" Harry asked carefully. "Is this because you don't want people to think I'm getting free access or that you just don't trust me?"

"Both," Kingsley said seriously, surprising Harry with his honestly. "You're not thinking straight at the moment, and I understand why. I know you are hurting, I feel it too. LeStrange killed many of my colleagues over the years too, I feel bad for punishing her killer like this just like you do. But that's the law, and unless you can realise that for yourself I will be coming in with you."

Harry looked away, studying the blank, featureless wall as he thought about what Kingsley had said. Eventually, he turned back to him. "Okay, you'll come with me," he accepted. "Now can I talk to him?"

Kingsley nodded before walking over to the auror at the reception desk. The auror was clearly against the idea of giving Harry the meeting but dared not go against his boss's direct orders. Instead, he quietly told Kingsley which room to go to, which Kingsley silently led Harry to, opening the door and leading him inside.

The interrogation room was very bare. All the room consisted of was a table and three chairs, one of which was occupied by Clifford Fairchild.

There was nothing particularly noteworthy about Fairchild's appearance. He was slightly short and a bit overweight, although not more than you would expect a man of limited exercise to be. His face was quite round, giving it almost a childish quality, a look that was countered by his greying brown hair.

"Clifford Fairchild?" Harry asked as he approached, drawing the man's attention to him. He nodded. Harry glanced at Kingsley, who nodded, grabbing one of the chairs and dragging it to the back of the room for him to sit on, leaving Harry to take the other seat by the table.

"You are aware of why you are here, aren't you?" Harry asked tentatively, not sure what to expect.

"I know why I've been arrested," Fairchild said calmly. "I don't know why I'm currently talking to you."

Harry thought carefully over what to say next, not having come in to the room with any clear plan. "You killed a woman," Harry said slowly. "Bellatrix LeStrange. You killed her with a single killing curse, and then you waited for the auror office to find you." Fairchild nodded. "Why?"

"She's a murderer," Fairchild responded coldly. "She murdered my parents 12 years ago. I saw her, I heard her laugh and taunt me. The world's a better place now she's gone."

"That… wasn't what I was asking," Harry replied, trying to stop himself from openly agreeing with the man. "I'm asking, why did you wait?"

"After I killed her?" Fairchild asked. "You mean, why didn't I make a run for it?" Harry nodded. "Because I believe in the law. I believe in this country, this government. I believe that had I run I would have been caught by our very strong auror department and I would be properly tried and sentenced to life in Azkaban."

"What if I said there was a way out of Azkaban," Harry suggested, causing Fairchild to glance at him curiously.

"Harry," Kingsley said warningly from the back of the room.

Harry turned to him angrily. "I am licensed to practice law, Kingsley, therefore I am well within my rights to offer legal support to anyone I wish." He turned back to Fairchild. "Judging from what your sister said you went through a personality change after your parents were killed. I think I can get your sentence reduced, perhaps to time in a psychiatric ward until you are declared healthy if we claim you were under the effects of a mental illness."

"Everyone changes when their parents die," Fairchild pointed out. "Especially when it is murder. You seriously believe that would work."

"I do," Harry told him, ignoring the stony silence from Kingsley as he spoke. "I think that it's at least an avenue to explore. After everything LeStrange did we can surely get you some sort of leeway."

Fairchild chuckled slight, causing Harry to stop talking. "What's your name kid?" he asked amusedly.

"Harry," Harry responded.

"Harry," Fairchild accepted. "And am I to assume that you too have lost loved ones to LeStrange?"

Harry nodded. "My parents were killed by her on Halloween when I was just a year old," he admitted quietly. "Then 13 years ago today I got a message from the auror office, while having breakfast in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, that told me that my godfather had been found murdered in his home, along with a message from LeStrange, claiming credit for the attack."

"Halloween isn't a good day for you, is it, Harry?" Fairchild said sadly. "I thought you must have suffered hard to be so adamant in your desire to see me freed."

"But, what you did," Harry said, leaning forward on the table. "Killing LeStrange, you've done this world a favour."

"Yes," Fairchild nodded. "I have, but I still must face the consequences."

"Why?" Harry asked hollowly.

Fairchild chuckled. "Why? Because I committed murder," he laughed. "No matter who it may have been I still committed murder, using an unforgivable on top of all that too. My sentence is life in Azkaban, as said so by the law. There is a reason the law says that."

"But why can't we make an exception?" Harry insisted. "There are ways out of this and why shouldn't we use them to help you?"

"Because we can't go making exceptions for people," Fairchild told him. "You let me off, then what? A serial killer is cursed dead in his own bed? An extremist activist is blown up with a grenade potion? A petty thief is struck down by his victim shop owner? Where do we draw the line?"

Harry had no response for that, instead sitting silently in his seat. Fairchild looked at him with sorrowful eyes. "As much as I want to be able to live my life as a free man, walk my daughter down the aisle, say hello to my first grandchild, that's the sacrifice I have made. I am a criminal and I must be punished for my crimes."

There was silence in the room as he finished talking. "Now, I would like to just ask for one favour, before we finish this discussion," Fairchild said slowly, shifting in his seat. "My sister would rather not have anything more to do with me, but I do love my daughter and if it is possible I would like to get a message to her."

Harry nodded, listening intently as Fairchild passed along his message. As he finished, Fairchild sat back in his seat and folded his arms, a clear indication that the meeting was over. Harry silently got to his feet, his mind running through the message he was tasked with delivering as he turned to the door.

"I just," Harry started saying as he turned back round, looking down at where Fairchild sat. "Before I go, I just want to say one thing." Fairchild nodded, as if to give Harry permission to speak.

"In the courts they're going to say some terrible things to you," Harry told him. "they're going to drag your name through the mud, call you violent, unstable, question every decision you've ever made in your life. I just wanted to say, before all that, thank you."

Fairchild showed no sign of hearing his thanks, no nod of acceptance or word telling him he was welcome. Nothing from the man who would soon be finding himself at the mercy of the foulest creatures alive in an inescapable fortress.

Harry turned away, walking through the door as Kingsley held it open for him. Harry walked silently back to the waiting room, mulling everything over. It was when he reached the waiting room that his train of thought came to a halt.

Harry stared at the woman sitting there, recognising her from when he'd first passed through the room. But now things were different. She hadn't changed but Harry recognised the shape of the jaw, the tone of her hair and the colour of her eyes. And if there was any doubt, the way she was staring right back at him told him she knew he recognised her.

"Josephine Fairchild?" he asked softly, approaching her as she kept her gaze locked with his. She nodded. "Could you perhaps spare me a few moments to speak with you?" he asked courteously, trying to keep his tone light in the presence of strangers. Again she nodded.

"Are there any interrogation rooms free?" Harry asked the auror at the desk. The auror looked very unwilling to answer him but a swift look from Kingsley set him straight.

"Interrogation room C," he answered unwillingly. "Second door on the left."

Harry nodded as he led Josephine down the corridor, noting the irony of the fact he was taking her to the room right next to her father's. Holding the door open for her, Harry waited patiently until she had taken a seat before he too sat down.

"Just to be sure, you are Clifford Fairchild's daughter?" Harry asked, to which Josephine nodded. "Can you confirm to me your date of birth?"

"7th of May, 1987," Josephine said, Harry quickly running the date through his head to check the ages matched.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Not more than five minutes ago I spoke with your father." Josephine nodded. "And he asked me to pass a message to you."

Josephine's breath hitched at that, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at him. "Can I hear the message?" she asked faintly.

Harry looked at her sadly for a moment, before reciting from his memory. "He wants you to know that he's proud of you," Harry told her, watching as she took the news. "He wanted you to know he doesn't care that you won't be joining the family business, that he wants you to do what'll make you happy. He says that he loves you and he's sorry he had to do this."

Josephine was holding her face in her hand as Harry finished, tears flowing down her cheeks despite her attempts to stop them. Harry sat silently across from her, not sure what to say to comfort her, or if she even wanted comforting.

"It'll be alright," Harry tried, but the words sounded false even to his own ears.

"Why, why does this have to happen?" she cried, her free hand banging on the table as she tried everything to regain control of her emotions. "Why is he being punished for this? Why does he have to go to jail for killing that bitch?"

"Because that's the way the law works," Harry said sadly. "It doesn't account for these moral dilemmas, it just allows us to punish those who sin."

"You think my father's sinned?" Josephine yelled, slamming both fists on the table. "You think my father is wrong with what he did? Because if you think-"

"Josephine, stop," Harry said loudly, catching her arms as she went to bang them against the table, her tearstained face looking at him in pure misery. "Your father has done something that our auror department has been trying to do for years," Harry told her, his voice shaking slightly as he spoke. "We understand, Josephine, as does most of the wizarding world. We know what LeStrange is and we know we're better off without her."

"Then why can't you get him out of this?" Josephine sobbed, her words nearly incomprehensible and fresh tears rolled down her face.

"Because he doesn't want out," Harry told her, briefly stopping her quivering sobs. "I tried to get him out of this, I've lost people to LeStrange too, my parents, my godfather. But he doesn't want an exception made because of him. He says he has sinned, and he says he deserves the punishment of the law for his crimes. The least we can do is honour that."

Josephine started to calm down as Harry released her arms, letting them drop softly onto the table as she panted at her exertions. "My dad is a good father," she told Harry. "Don't look at me like that, he is."

"He's a good man," Harry admitted. "But I don't see how he can be a good father."

Josephine shook her head, laughing derisively. "His parents were killed 12 years ago," she told him. "Do you really think my dad took all twelve years to find her?"

Harry sighed as he stood up. "Perhaps not," he admitted as he walked to the door. "But I don't think a good father would ever voluntarily leave their child."

* * *

"Yeah," Amos said quietly as he spoke on his phone, having taken a seat in the corner of the room for privacy. "Yeah, you'll have to reschedule that one," he told the person on the other end of the line. "Tomorrow. Coordinate with Luna, I should have an open slot at 10 o'clock."

He fell silent as he saw Meredith re-enter the room. "I'll talk later," Amos said, quickly hanging up the phone as he moved forward to see her. "How is he?"

Amos took confidence in her appearance. While there were dried tear tracks still running down her face she seemed more assured than she had been when they had first been told she could go in and see her husband.

"He's okay," she said quietly, her voice still shaky. "He's still under some numbing potions but he doesn't seem to be in too much pain."

Amos nodded, not feeling particularly reassured. "How well do the doctors think he's going to recover?" he asked, having not had the time to speak with Dr Dominguez since their first meeting.

Meredith needed to stifle a sob as she answered, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "The doctors warned that a lot of the damage looks to be permanent," she admitted thickly, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "They don't know for sure but it is possible he might end up paralysed from the waist down. He may never walk again."

Amos looked away, trying desperately to control his emotions as he heard the news. "This is my fault," he whispered softly, his voice distraught.

"No, Amos, don't blame yourself," Meredith told him, taking an anxious step closer. "No one could have seen this coming."

"Yes, but it wouldn't have happened had I not convinced him to come here in the first place," Amos argued back, holding a hand to his face as he tried to hold back his anguish. "I should have just left him alone."

Meredith watched him sadly. "Amos, go talk to Stewart," she told him seriously. "It'll make you feel better."

"No, I can't," Amos said, glancing almost fearfully at the door that led to the patient rooms. "I can't face him, not now."

"He wants to see you," Meredith pressed forward, bringing Amos's attention back to her as she stepped further into his personal space. "Please, just talk to him."

Amos nodded, almost against his will as he looked at her earnest expression. Cautiously, he walked over to the door at the far end of the room, walking through it into the corridor beyond. Walking on, Amos stopped at the first door on the right, just as he had been told, and, after a long pause, he opened the door.

"Amos," Stewart called out to him as he saw him standing there. "Come over here," he commanded him, gesturing for him to enter as he strained to see over the side of his hospital bed.

Amos moved closer slowly, letting the door fall shut behind him. "Stewart," he said, his face ashen. "How… how are you feeling?"

"Could be better," Stewart replied, the corner of his lips twitching. "But compared to the pain I was feeling earlier today I'm good." There was a silence between them as Amos stopped short of his bed, unwilling to get too close. "Amos, don't do this."

"What?" Amos responded, his head snapping up. "What am I doing?"

"Blaming yourself," Stewart told him. "I know you're doing it, you are just that type of person."

"Is there any reason I shouldn't blame myself?" Amos asked.

"Sure," Stewart told him. "Come closer."

Amos forced his unwilling legs to take him the couple of steps to lead him to Stewart's bed side, where he stood over his old friend and was finally able to see the full extent of the damage that was done.

"Amos, this wasn't your fault," Stewart told him, ignoring the way Amos' eyes were being drawn to his bandaged midriff. "Some contaminated potion ingredients that just happen to react with trans-continental port key travel. It's ridiculous, no one could see it coming."

"It wouldn't have had to happen," Amos told him stubbornly. "Had I not convinced you to take this job."

"That wasn't the risk I was worried about," Stewart told him. "I could have picked up this injury going on holiday just as easily."

Amos shrugged, not agreeing with him but not willing to have the argument either. Instead he changed the subject. "What are you going to do now?" he asked.

Stewart shrugged. "Let the doctors do their work," he said vaguely. "I suppose that will mostly be physical therapy after they can see the extent of the damage, and they'll obviously have tons of potions to throw down my throat before I leave."

"And after you're feeling better?" Amos asked.

"Well, I've got a job to do," Stewart replied, shrugging as though it were obvious. "I'll no doubt spend a lot of time talking to Harry over the phone and of course dealing with his counterpart here. I'm not sure what else this job will entail other than that."

"You're still willing to take this post?" Amos asked, astonished. "Even after what has happened?"

"Well, yes," Stewart replied. "Nothing's changed Amos, this is just a bit of a delay, that's all." He looked at Amos carefully. "Don't blame yourself," he said, firmly and clearly.

Amos nodded. "Alright," he said, trying to pacify him. "I'm afraid I must leave now." He continued after a short pause

"Of course," Stewart agreed. "There is undoubtedly lots of things you need to get back to. I wouldn't want to hold you up any longer."

Amos turned to the door.

"Oh, and Amos," Stewart called before he could leave. "Thank you, for coming to see me."

Amos nodded, before silently turning and leaving, not trusting himself to speak as emotions boiled beneath the surface of his calm facade.

"You okay, Amos?" Meredith asked as he walked back out into the waiting room. "Were you and Stewart able to talk?"

Amos nodded firmly, clearing his throat. "Yes," he said, trying to slip back into his business persona. "I'm afraid I must go now and return to the Ministry. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer, but-"

"No, that's alright," Meredith said, cutting across him. "You've done more than enough today. Thank you, for waiting with me."

Again Amos nodded before he walked out the door, leaving Meredith standing alone in the waiting room.

* * *

"I remember this one time when you were a year old Sirius thought it would be a good idea to give you a ride around on his back," Remus reminisced, taking a swig of butterbeer. "Your dad wasn't so sure about it but you kept on chanting 'Padfoot, Padfoot, Padfoot', so he gave in. We constructed a harness out of your walker and attached it to Sirius's back after he'd transformed."

"So wait, I actually rode around on his back?" Harry asked incredulously.

Remus chuckled. "Yes, you loved it, it was the fastest you'd ever moved. Then your mum came home."

Harry winced. "I can imagine she wasn't happy with what you'd done," he noted.

Remus laughed. "Not in the slightest," he agreed. "Your father tried to claim he had nothing to do with it. But of course someone had to attach the walker to that mutt and your mum thought I was too sensible to do such a thing."

"So you let dad take the heat?" Harry said, taking a swig from his own bottle of butterbeer. "What happened to Marauder brotherhood?"

"Didn't apply for Lily," Remus told him. "When James told us he was going to marry her we told him that she was his responsibility, we weren't getting in between them on anything. That was a two way agreement, as it happened."

"What did she do to you?" Harry asked interestedly.

"Oh, not me," Remus denied. "She trusted me. It was Sirius that she took it out on."

"What did she do to him?"

"She forbid us from taking the walker off his back," Remus told him. "Sirius couldn't transform back until it had been removed. Instead he had to wander around the house with this walker wobbling around on top of him."

"How long did he stay like that?" Harry asked.

"Two days," Remus replied. "I'm not kidding," he said in answer to Harry's astonished look. "For two days Sirius lived with you as the pet dog, basically, eating out of a bowl, sleeping on the floor. I think James at times forgot he was still Sirius under all that fur."

Harry laughed. "And neither you nor dad decided to help him out?"

"No way," Remus shook his head amusedly. "You never do anything Lily forbids you from." Remus took another sip. "Plus it was very funny."

The two of them laughed at the story, taking drinks from their beers as they settled down for the end of a stressful day. "Oh, and remember that old broom that Sirius was determined to make fly?" Remus said, remembering suddenly. "All I can remember from that summer was Sirius jumping down from that tree with a stick between his legs."

"Sirius was perhaps not the sanest guardian I could have had," Harry noted lightly. "I suppose that's why it was such a good thing you were there to raise me too."

"I don't think you give enough credit to Sirius," Remus admonished lightly. "Sure, he had his eccentricities and perhaps that may have been a problem had I not been there, but he did raise you. Before you were born it was always Sirius's plan to grow old disgracefully. He wanted to spend his life partying with pretty girls and driving really fast sports cars, all the while pissing away the Black family fortune on anything he could find that would have had them rolling in their graves."

"You're right, Sirius was very responsible," Harry intervened cheekily, earning a mock glare from Remus.

"But after your parents died," Remus pressed on meaningfully. "He gave all that up, without even having to be asked. As soon as he learned you needed someone to look after you he gave up that life and became, essentially, a single father."

"Not quite a single father," Harry pointed out quietly. "He had you."

Remus chuckled softly. "Yes, I suppose he did," he responded. "In fact, he sometimes used to joke that we were like an old married couple and I was his wife nagging at him for being a bad influence on you. But without Sirius you wouldn't have had me, the Ministry wouldn't have allowed me to be your guardian."

"It was still that bad back then?" Harry asked sadly.

Remus nodded. "It's only in the last ten years or so that things have changed," he told him. "I think it was my generation who first realised that things were messed up. Things only started to change once my old school mates started to take up higher positions."

Harry nodded in agreement. "So if something had happened to Sirius, who would have taken care of me?" Harry asked. "When Sirius did die I stayed with you until I became of age."

Remus nodded. "That was Dumbledore's doing," he told him. "He applied for you to become a ward of Hogwarts until your seventeenth birthday, knowing that was the only way to allow you to stay with me. He was a good man, Dumbledore."

Harry nodded respectfully. "So, if it weren't for Dumbledore who would I have stayed with?" He asked.

"I don't know for sure," Remus replied. "But all your relatives on your dad's side of the family were dead. I guess you'd have ended up staying with Lily's sister, Petunia."

Harry made a face. "I can't imagine how that would've been," he said wearily. "I imagine she'd probably just have tossed me out on to the street."

"Maybe," Remus responded mildly. "We'll never know, but perhaps if she'd been tasked with raising you, her only nephew, she'd have responded differently." Remus frowned at the look Harry was giving him. "It might have happened," he defended. "After all, don't you talk with her son sometimes, what's his name, Dodly."

"Dudley," Harry corrected. "Yeah, I speak with him sometimes, over stern objections from Petunia, I might add."

Remus shrugged. "I'm just saying, maybe if she'd raised you herself things would be different."

Harry's response was cut off by a knock on the door. Looking up, Harry's attention was brought sharply back to the trials of the day as he saw Josephine Fairchild standing before him, looking slightly nervous but nevertheless better put together than she had been earlier.

"I apologise for interrupting," she said quietly, glancing at Remus who was still completely unaware of her identity. "I was just about to go home and I wanted to have the opportunity to speak with you again before I leave."

Harry nodded slowly, his attention firmly focused on her, causing her to shift uncomfortably.

"I wanted to thank you," she told him. "I'm sorry I yelled at you before but I understand now that you were trying to help. I just… sometimes I get the feeling that the world is against him for what he's done, completely ignoring the circumstances."

Harry shook his head. "That's not true," he told her quietly. "When the world hears who he killed they'll understand. There will be appeals to have him released, petitions this Ministry will receive in a few days with thousands of signatures. In this room there is no one who hasn't lost a loved one to that woman."

Josephine glanced quickly at Remus, who'd picked up what they were talking about and now held a somber expression on his face. "Is there any chance-?"

"No," Harry said firmly, his eyes boring into hers. "I've talked about this all day. There is no chance of a reprieve, and even if there were your father wouldn't take it. He's a man who believes in the law, even at his own expense."

"It seems you understand my father pretty well," Josephine admitted. "Perhaps better than I do." She was silent for a moment as she contemplated that. "Well, thank you, anyway. I appreciate all you've done."

Harry nodded his acceptance as Josephine turned and made her way out of the office, walking through the quiet halls as she passed various secretaries and assistants packing up for the day. So lost in thought was she, that she never noticed a body step out in front of her.

"Ooph," she exhaled sharply as she walked into the man's back, sending the man stumbling a step forward. "Sorry, I wasn't looking."

"That's okay," Ron said calmly as he turned around, the papers in his hand held tightly as he'd made a grab for them to stop them from falling. "I bet somehow it was my fault anyway."

Josephine smiled slightly, the action feeling awkward to her after the day she'd had. She tried her best to hide it but Ron noticed anyway.

"Are you alright?" He asked, raising a hand to her forehead to check her temperature. "No fever," he noted. "You look very pale, do you feel you need to lie down or something?"

Josephine shook her head, blushing slightly as she felt the remnant heat on her forehead from where his hand had touched her. "No, I'm feeling alright," she said quietly. "I just haven't had a particularly good day."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ron asked, looking at her concernedly. "What's your name?"

"Josephine Fairchild," Josephine replied softly, glancing down at the ground as she registered the surprise on his face. "I suppose you've heard about my father."

Ron nodded. "It's pretty big news around here," he told her, his voice soft. "A lot of people here have suffered because of that woman." He regarded Josephine carefully, noticing the way she continued to look down at the ground in shame. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Josephine looked up at that, her eyes watering slightly as she looked at him. "You're sorry for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ron nodded. "You're the one who's going to have to live without their father now," Ron told her. "I wish you didn't have to."

Josephine stifled a sob as she looked at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said quietly, trying to keep herself under control, calming down somewhat.

"If you want you could talk to me about it," Ron suggested. "We could go to a cafe or something and order a couple of drinks and I'll listen. It'll help you feel better."

Josephine looked at him, her gaze a strange mix of desire and reluctance. "I don't think I can," she said softly. "Not now, not so soon after this has all happened."

Ron nodded his understanding. "Well, if you ever change your mind just ask for Ron Weasley's office," he told her. "That's where I'll be."

She nodded her thanks, staring at him for a moment as her brain seemed to slow down. She went to walk past him, before stopping and instead turning to him, giving a gentle kiss on his surprised lips. She stood for a second longer, her face mere inches from his, before she walked away, her head down as she kept her gaze rooted to the floor.

Still standing in the corridor, completely stunned, Ron watched as she walked away and out of sight. Turning back he looked at Dennis, who'd been quietly filing away paperwork next to him, and sighed happily.

"She kissed me," he said breathlessly, his voice high with excitement. "Can you believe it?"

Dennis looked at him in concern, wondering whether Ron would ever return to helping him work. "I really can't," he replied honestly, but Ron wasn't listening. Instead he was staring back down the corridor, his eyes unfocused as a smile spread across his face.

* * *

"That was good of you, Harry," Remus said to him once he was sure Josephine was gone. "She really appreciated that, I think."

Harry nodded slightly as he took another swig from his drink. "It's only fair," he said. "Her world's never going to be the same again. If anyone knows what it's like to live without your parents it's me."

"It's also good that you are back to normal again," Remus added. "You've come very close to breaking quite a few laws today, Harry. You owe Kingsley a lot for covering for you."

Harry nodded. "I know, and I'm really grateful for Kingsley for that," he said. "I just needed to get some closure and hearing Fairchild tell me that he should go to Azkaban really helped set me straight."

"That's good," Remus said. "I think a lot of people will be glad to finally have this moment. I know I will sleep better knowing my friends have been avenged." He popped open a new bottle of Butterbeer. "To James, Sirius and Lily," he said, raising the bottle to Harry, who raised his own back, each of them taking deep drinks as they honoured the memory of their past loved ones.

* * *

Elsewhere in the Ministry Amos walked through the corridors, feeling as old as he looked as the weight of the day's events bore down on him. Moving through the Ministry, Amos reached his office and started to tap at the door with his wand to unlock it.

"Are you okay, Mr Diggory?" Luna asked as she looked at him, her wide protuberant eyes taking in every inch of his pale face.

"I'm fine, Luna," Amos replied, using his considerable experience to mask the pain. "It's just these damn trans-continental port keys, they make me feel absolutely sick every time I use them." His gaze wandered to the bag sitting on her desk. "You just leaving?"

Luna nodded. "I could stay a bit longer if you need anything," she told him, her hand ready to start pulling things back out of her bag.

Amos shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary," he told her. "Go, I just have to finish off a couple of things in my office." He walked inside, closing the door behind him as he moved to sink back into his desk chair, feeling all his years weighing down on him like some sort of physical force. Eyes skimming over the various papers still sitting on his desk from the morning, Amos's hand wandered down to his bottom drawer, which he carefully pulled open and picked out a photograph from inside.

"That's me off," Luna told him as she opened the door.

Amos jumped slightly at her appearance, before regaining control. "Alright Luna," he said, smiling slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

Luna left without another word, closing the door behind her and leaving Amos alone in his office, the first time he'd been there since hearing the news of Stewart Diaz. Turning his attention back to the photo in his hand, Amos sighed sadly at the figure displayed before him.

Cedric Diggory stood tall and proud next to his father, who was now several inches shorter than the strapping seventeen year old. Behind them Amos could spot the colours of thousands of tents, all pitched up so that their owners could take in the final of the Quidditch World Cup, Ireland versus Bulgaria.

Unbidden, a tear rolled from the corner of his eye as he watched the photo Cedric smile and wave up at him, standing looking as though he didn't have a care in the world. How cruel it was that by the time summer rolled by again he was no longer there to see it.

Amos remembered the day well, the day he'd turned up to see his son compete in the Tri-wizard tournament against the contestants of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. They'd entered the great maze with cheers of support from the crowd, but only two would return. It was the worst moment in Amos's life when he saw Fleur Delacour lead Viktor Krum out of the maze, Cedric's body carried over his broad shoulders. They told them that Bellatrix LeStrange had been in the maze, that it was she that had committed the crime, but she was long gone by the time a search could be conducted.

Amos dropped the photo onto the desk, his hands shaking violently as he did so. He pushed himself roughly from his seat, jerkily stomping over to his decanter of Fire-whiskey, which he uncorked and started to pour into a glass, the alcoholic substance spilling as his hands shook.

Taking the glass, Amos gulped down the drink in one, praying it would cease the shaking of his fingers. Feeling his body numb as the fire-whiskey flooded through him, Amos glanced, almost afraid, to the photo sitting on his desk. He wanted to stop himself, needed to stop himself, but at the sight of his son's smiling face he couldn't bare it.

Refilling his glass, his hands starting to shake as the first drink wore off, Amos made one final attempt to stop himself, setting the decanter down firmly on the table he had taken it from. Staring down at the half filled glass in front of him, Amos begged with himself to be strong, to control his desire. One look at the picture on his desk and Amos surrendered, picking up his glass and throwing back the drink, the alcohol burning his throat along with the burn of regret and despair.


	8. Council

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Hey Harry," Dennis greeted as he joined him on his way to the office, moving quickly to keep up with Harry's brisk pace. "You just getting in?"

"Yeah," Harry responded as he dodged a secretary. "Do you have something you need me to have a look at or is this more of your pre-work communications that you've become so fond of lately?"

"The second thing," Dennis answered with a shrug. "I mean, we're walking together so we might as well make the most of it. How was your evening?"

"Wouldn't it be better if we talked about something important?" Harry asked, completely ignoring the question.

"It would be," Dennis agreed. "But I've not got anything important to talk to you about, unless of course you are interested in my personal life."

"I am not, nor will I ever be, interested in your personal life," Harry told him flatly. "Anyway, I've got something important to talk to you about. Did you know that the Minister gives an annual address to the nation on Christmas Day?"

"Yes, I did know that actually," Dennis told him. "Last year I was spending Christmas with my girlfriend's family. They were a bit weird to be honest. They were all sitting around the radio for about twenty minutes beforehand and when the Minister came on they all started hushing each other."

"Yes, well," Harry said, regaining the flow of his thoughts as he pushed past Dennis's personal comments. "We need to write what the Minister will be saying this year. It's almost a month until Christmas and if last year taught me anything it's that you don't want to leave this until the last minute."

"Why not?" Dennis asked curiously. "What's so special about this speech compared to any other? It's like ten minutes long, right?"

"Yeah, it's pretty simple really," Harry replied. "It's just that Christmas is a ridiculously busy time of year in the Ministry. This place will be so completely overrun with people trying to organise the festivities that no one is going to have the opportunity to remind you to do your bit."

"You mean, last year you forgot," Dennis said simply, seeing through the explosion of words Harry had just sent at him.

"Basically, yes," Harry admitted. "I did remember six hours before the address was meant to be delivered, though."

"The address was delivered at nine o'clock in the morning," Dennis reminded him. "You remembered six hours before then?"

"Well, technically seven," Harry corrected himself. "It took a while to get dressed and find a spare piece of parchment in my flat. I was still half asleep when I wrote it." Harry glanced at Dennis' surprised face. "That is why we start early this year."

"Of course," Dennis agreed as they reached his office. "But just to be clear, when you say we you really mean me?"

"Nothing gets past you, Dennis," Harry commented as he continued walking towards his own office, leaving Dennis behind. "Cho," he called as he walked inside, dumping his bag by his desk and sorting through some papers that had already managed to gather themselves upon the work surface.

"Good morning, Harry," Cho said as she followed in behind him, a piece of parchment attached to a clipboard held at the ready.

"Morning," Harry replied, drinking the mug of coffee that Cho had placed on his desk for when he arrived. "I've just set Dennis on starting a draft for the Minister's Christmas Day address, could you have last year's transcript sent to him to give him a rough idea of where we want to go with this?"

Cho nodded, scribbling on her clipboard. "Anything else?"

"Yes, tell Hermione I want her to hold back on that thing from her morning press conference, I'm still not sure what exactly to release," Harry continued.

"What's the thing?" Cho asked, her quill poised to scribble down his answer.

"The report we got yesterday," Harry said vaguely, his mind struggling to grasp the words necessary. "Hermione will understand, it's just the thing we talked about yesterday before we went home."

"Alright," Cho said, again scribbling on her clipboard. "Is that all?"

"For now," Harry told her, throwing his cloak over onto the sofa. "I'm heading off to meet with the goblins right now so make sure to hold all my calls until I'm back."

"What about the Hogwarts students?" Cho asked as Harry made to walk past her.

"What Hogwarts students?" Harry replied quizzically, already half way out his office door but pausing to hear Cho's response.

"I told you about this last week," Cho said, her tone slightly berating. "The NEWT Hogwarts Politics class. They are here in the Ministry today to talk to you about what it is like working in politics. I reminded you of this yesterday."

Harry looked surprised at that, this being news to him. "You did? I guess I wasn't listening," he said warily, not willing to aggravate his assistant. "When am I due to see them?"

"In half an hour," Cho told him crossly. "I just received a call from the reception desk that they've just arrived by secure port key in the atrium."

Harry rubbed at his eyes, his brain working fast. "I can't see them, Cho," he told her. "The goblins are far too important to blow off for this. You're going to have to find someone else to do it instead."

"Who else?" Cho asked desperately. "This meeting has been earmarked for the Communications Director, they expect to see you."

"Well, they can't," Harry responded with a shrug. "Someone else has got to do it. I don't care who you get, you can do it if you want. Anyone here is qualified, so just get someone to cover for me." Harry glanced at the clock on his wall. "I've got to go," he said with a sigh. "You'll sort this out?"

Her shoulders slumped, Cho nodded disappointedly. Harry took this as his cue to leave, moving swiftly through the corridors until he reached the now very familiar doorway to Meeting Room 1. Opening it, Harry quickly greeted each of the people inside.

"Griphook, Master Copperbub, Master Boltspark," Harry nodded respectfully to the three goblins in the room. "Good morning, Neville," he added to the only human at the table.

"Morning Harry," Neville replied as the three goblins responded respectfully to his greeting. "Great, now that we're all here, let's get started," he said, turning to face the goblins as Harry took his seat.

"What about Amos?" Harry asked. "I was under the impression he would be joining us today."

"Amos is in the hospital wing," Neville informed him. "A bad case of the flu," Neville added at the slightly alarmed look on Harry's face. "He just needs to rest a bit until his fever drops. In the meantime I'm covering for him, so today I'm technically representing both Amos and myself."

Harry nodded, satisfied by Neville's answer. "Great," he said, turning to the room as a whole. "So, let us begin."

"Indeed," Griphook agreed, business like as he folded his hands in front of him on the surface of the table. "My colleagues and I were discussing this meeting on our way into the Ministry and we came up with two major issues we feel need to be addressed before we can go any further." Harry nodded for him to continue. "The first issue is concerned with where the Council will meet."

"Due to the bipartisan nature of this venture we feel it would be unwise for the council to be based either here, in the Ministry, or back at Gringotts," Copperbub said, his voice surprisingly soft for a goblin. "Considering those are the two most reasonable suggestions for a location, given their links with the magical world, this leaves us with a rather interesting dilemma."

"I understand," Harry said, leaning back in his seat thoughtfully. "The Council must remain independent from both wizard and goblin government, that much is obvious."

"How about a trade off," Neville suggested. "We have both the Ministry and Gringotts as meeting places for the Council and every so often they will move from one building to the other."

"It wouldn't work," Boltspark said simply, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You'd have to find the line between not having the Council under too much of the influence from the organisation it resides within with how regularly you can uproot the Council without it becoming simply impractical."

"That would also give in to more human or goblin sentiment depending on which building they happen to be in," Griphook added. "In both political views and public opinion. This proposal would make it very difficult for the Council to be impartial at any time in its existence."

"Alright, I get your point," Neville conceded. "How about we instead split the Council in half, one half would be in the Ministry building and one half would be in Gringotts."

"I hope you're not suggesting we keep the goblins in Gringotts and the humans in the Ministry," Boltspark said thunderously.

"Of course not, that would be completely counter productive," Neville said appeasingly, calming the irate goblin. "I was thinking more that we'd have a mix of goblins and humans in each building."

"That wouldn't work either, I'm afraid," Harry said sadly. "No matter whether they were human or goblin they'd feel pressure from the building they are working in, and therefore won't be able to remain completely impartial."

"That's why we have them in both buildings," Neville pressed on. "Between them the Council should still be able to reach an impartial decision by consulting with the other group."

"I also think we'd struggle to get the two groups to cooperate with each other," Harry continued. "I can see a future coming from this idea where the Council splits into two factions, one at the Ministry and one at Gringotts. If we were to split the Council we would breed two rival groups and that is just the last thing we need from this Council."

"Then what do you suggest?" Neville asked, slightly irritable with the way his idea was so completely shot down.

"We can't use the Ministry or Gringotts," Harry said. "We need somewhere neutral, where neither race has political leverage."

"Diagon Alley?" Copperbub suggested.

"Not the best idea, I don't think," Griphook intervened. "Geographically anything in Diagon Alley is too close to Gringotts. While we have no political hold over the area there will be plenty who will not be comfortable with the Council being in such close proximity to the goblin stronghold."

"That leaves us out of options," Neville said. "The only other significant magical area is Hogwarts, and I'm not too keen with having the Council sitting inside the walls of a school."

"Agreed," Boltspark added.

"Then, that just leaves us with a completely new build," Harry summed up. "It will delay the start of the Council's work but that's the only solution I can think of."

"I have to agree with you on that, Harry," Griphook nodded. "A new build. How about the Ministry looks for a suitable plot of land. Once we can agree on a location we'll start looking at building plans and we'll send out our best architects to manage the construction."

Harry glanced at Neville. "We'll do that," he said, prompting Neville to scribble something down on his pad. "Hopefully we can come to a quick decision on this and keep the delays to a minimum."

"I'll pass this on to Hannah when we break up," Neville said as he finished scribbling. "We'll look over possible locations and with any luck we'll have a shortlist drawn up for you to view tomorrow."

The three goblins nodded their agreement to the plan. Leaning forward, Griphook pressed on with discussions. "So, that's one of our issues taken care of," he said.

Harry nodded. "And the other one?" he asked.

"This Council will be made up of seven wizards and seven goblins," Copperbub said carefully at Griphook's encouragement. "This is a must in order for us to remain equals in the Council. On the other hand, it does cause a rather difficult problem."

"What's that?" Neville asked, the two men filling with dread at the slow build up to the goblins point.

"There are seven wizards and seven goblins," Boltspark said roughly. "How do we settle a tie?"

* * *

"Hey, Lizzie, what's going on?" Ron asked as he approached her desk, frowning confusedly. "I thought I had a meeting right now but Colin said it was postponed because of something you arranged with him."

"Yes, that would be the Hogwarts NEWT Politics class," Lizzie explained for him.

"Yes, them," Ron agreed. "Why am I seeing them? I didn't have anything written down about it."

"Well, they actually were originally here for Harry," Lizzie told him.

"Harry's meeting with the goblins right now," Ron replied.

"I know," Lizzie responded. "That's why Cho asked me to tell Dennis that he was doing this, but Dennis is working on the Minister's Christmas Address and so he asked me to ask you to do it instead."

"But I've got work to do too," Ron complained.

"I know," Lizzie continued. "That's why I had Colin clear your schedule so you can take the time to talk to the students. You can thank me later." Ron scowled at her.

"Fine," he sighed, frustrated. "I'll do it. Just, fill me in a bit before I go in there. Who exactly is going to be there?"

"Well, Politics can only be taken at NEWT level," Lizzie told him. "So that means only sixth and seventh years."

"How many of them are there?" Ron asked.

"Fifteen," Lizzie replied. "Nine sixth years, six seventh years. They'll be accompanied by their teacher, Professor Loraine Turner as well as the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, although I've been informed that she is coming for other business and that she will not be overseeing the visit personally."

"Thank god," Ron muttered. "I don't think I'd have coped with McGonagall staring at me from the back of the room, Transfiguration was hard enough. What's Professor Turner like? She wasn't at the school when I left."

"She's very young," Lizzie told him. "I believe she was only a few years ahead of you at Hogwarts. She was brought into the job six years ago, when the subject was first created, and she has been very popular with the student population since. She's a very smart woman."

"She taught you then?" Ron caught on. "Tell me this, how involved in the discussion will she be? Will she lead a debate or will she just let the students do the talking?"

"She's very proactive," Lizzie told him. "She will likely start things off, but then sit back and watch once the students have become more involved."

"Alright," Ron said, gaining confidence in the venture. "And what exactly am I supposed to be talking about?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Anything," she said. "When I was here two years ago the Communications Director, Nolan Wickham, talked to us about economic growth. One of the seventh years started an argument with him, it was great to watch."

"Great," Ron mumbled. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

"Oh relax," Lizzie scolded him. "They're school children, they don't know the law like you do. Believe me, you can run circles around any of them."

"Alright," Ron sighed. "They're in the Murphy Room, right?" Lizzie nodded, causing Ron to walk away and travel through the corridors, silently dreading the meeting but knowing there was no way out of it. Reaching the Murphy Room, a beautifully decorated and spacious room they used for when they were entertaining non-political visitors, Ron took a deep breath before walking inside.

"Hello, you're Professor Turner?" Ron asked quietly as he approached the brunette woman sitting nearest the door, her Ministry visitors pass identifying her for him.

"Yes, that's me," she replied, standing up to shake his hand as a few of her students glanced over in the hopes of something happening. "We've been waiting here for a while, is there a problem?"

"No, just a little mix up with the schedules," Ron assured her, to which she gave him a knowing look. "The guy you were supposed to meet with has an unavoidable meeting right now so I'm looking after you for the day instead." Professor Turner nodded her head in acceptance.

Ron walked to the front of the room, drawing the attention of the rest of the students. "Good morning everyone, thank you for joining us here today," he said clearly, speaking to the whole room. "I apologise for the wait but our Communications Director had an unavoidable meeting scheduled for today and is therefore unable to see you. Instead, I'm going to be talking to you. My name is Ron Weasley, I'm the Political Strategy Director here at the Ministry, and my job is basically to advise the Minister on what will or will not go down well with the public."

"So basically you're saying your job is to decide what you're going to hide from us," Professor Turner commented, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"My job is to tell the Minister what the people want," Ron clarified.

"And how do you find out what the people want?" Professor Turner asked, clearly trying to get Ron to completely explain his job for the students she had brought with her.

"I ask them," Ron replied simply. "I send out surveys, questionnaires, etcetera to see what the people think on certain issues. For example, if the Minister wanted to look at ways of reforming how we did our taxes I would have a bunch of staffers calling up on people's floo-lines asking them questions about what they think of taxes. I then take their responses and judge how many people are in favour with different ideas, and then I brief the Minister on what the public think we should do and what the public think we should avoid doing."

"What sort of topics do you ask about?" a young girl in the front row asked.

"Mostly the basic questions on their beliefs," Ron told her. "Do they favour werewolf rights, muggleborn rights, tax cuts, environmental schemes. There are lots of things the Ministry wants to hear from you in order for us to do a better job. So, now that we're all here, what do you want to talk about?"

From the back of the room a dark headed boy raised his hand slowly into the air.

"Yes," Ron said, pointing at him. "What do you have to discuss with us?"

The boy coughed slightly before sitting up straighter in his seat. "I was hoping we could perhaps discuss pureblood rights," he said as everyone's attention focused on him.

"In what sense?" Ron queried. "Do you want to ask why people think we should give purebloods more rights than other people or do you want to ask why the Ministry insists on upgrading the rights of muggleborns and half-bloods to match those of purebloods?"

"The second one," the boy answered.

"So I suppose you are a pureblood then," Ron speculated, knowing he was right from the reaction he got from the boy. "What's your name?"

"Darren Greengrass," he replied. "Sir," he added respectfully on the end.

"Greengrass," Ron repeated, his eyebrows rising. "You're not related to Daphne Greengrass, are you? She's the Senior Assistant to the Minister here."

"Yes, she's my cousin," Darren answered quietly. "I don't know her very well, my father and her father became quite estranged since they each got married."

Ron nodded his head. "Greengrass," he said to himself thoughtfully. "That's one prominent pureblood family you come from, it's not really surprising you hold that view." Ron regarded him for a moment, wondering if it was worth it. "Alright, we'll talk about pureblood rights," he said, clapping his hands together. "Tell me, why do you think purebloods should have more rights than any other citizen?"

"Well, purebloods are born into wizarding society," he said. "From the very first day of their life they are immersed in wizarding culture. How can we expect people who haven't been brought up like that to understand how to run our country, how to even properly live in it when there is so much they are not aware of?"

Ron nodded slowly, understanding the point that was being made. "Let me just ask you, with a show of hands," Ron said as he stood before the group. "Who here is pureblood?"

Darren raised his hand, along with a girl sitting a couple of spaces to his left. "Who is muggleborn?" Ron asked, getting two more hands raised, one from the girl from the front who had spoken earlier and another from a tall girl standing in the back.

"Now raise your hand if you are a halfblood." The rest of the people in the room raised their hands, including Professor Turner. "Do you see my point?" Ron asked as the hands started to drop.

"If I took this room as an accurate representation of wizarding society that would mean that 2 out of 16 are purebloods, 2 out of 16 are muggleborn, and the remaining 75% are halfblood," Ron told them.

"Now, I'm pureblood myself," Ron informed them. "As are my five brothers and my little sister, Ginny." Ron paused. "Now, lets take Ginny and use her to represent your average pureblood. In order to have children who are also pureblood Ginny would have to marry a pureblood. That means that, given my sister does not have any preconceived notions about the purity of blood in her prospective partner, there is an 87.5% chance that her children will not be pureblood."

Ron let that little statistic hang in the air for a while as he watched understanding dawn on a few faces. "Basically, according to our numbers, that means that each successive generation will only have 12.5% of the pureblood population of the generation before them," Ron finished. "Pureblood's are dying out."

There was silence in the room.

"That can't be right," Professor Turner argued, having thought carefully on the numbers. "You got the numbers from a sample of sixteen, that's not going to be representative of our population."

Ron nodded. "You're right, it's not," he told her. "That's what makes this even more incredible. Census reports show us that the percentage of our population that are pureblood is actually under 5%. Take that number to the example with my sister, take into account the facts that she may never marry and that she's already related to a large proportion of the male pureblood population and you really have to wonder just how minute the chances are that her children will end up being pureblood."

"What about if she were to actively choose purebloods as potential life partners?" a boy on the right asked. "Surely if all purebloods were to marry other purebloods and have a lot of children with them then the pureblood population will grow."

"There is a very good reason why that wouldn't work," Ron told him. "But first, tell me what your name is."

"Adam Wood," the boy replied.

"Any relation of Oliver?" Ron asked.

"Cousin," Adam replied, gesturing towards Darren as if to say 'like him'.

"Yes, I remember Oliver from school," Ron said. "I took his place as goalkeeper for Gryffindor after he left. Professor, did you know Oliver by any chance? A colleague of mine mentioned you were a few years above me at Hogwarts."

Professor Turner nodded. "He was in the year above me," she said. "We didn't talk much since he was more interested in quidditch while I focused more on my studies."

Ron nodded. "Yes, well, Adam, the explanation is quite simple," Ron continued. "If my sister were to marry a pureblood, lets hypothetically call him Neil," there were a few chuckles from the students. "And imagine if I were to say marry, I don't know, Daphne Greengrass." There were more chuckles at this and several not so discrete glances were thrown at Darren.

"Both me and my sister would bare pureblood children," Ron continued. "Naturally they couldn't then marry each other, they're cousins. So they marry other purebloods instead. Then what about the pureblood children they may have, could any of them marry each other? Where do you draw the line?"

"You're saying that trying to maintain pure blood creates incest?" Adam asked in surprise.

"The signs are all there already," Ron shrugged. "Almost all purebloods are related these days, we have to marry half-bloods and muggleborns just so we don't die out or marry our own cousins."

Ron thought for a second. "Let me tell you a story about the man who has in his lifetime been both the best proponent for pureblood rights and has also harmed the cause more than anyone else." The students went silent, waiting for his story.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Ron said dramatically. "Son of a wealthy muggle man, Tom Riddle Sr., and Merope Gaunt who, along with her brother Morfin and their father, Marvolo, were the last living descendants of Salazar Slytherin." There were hushed whisperings from the crowd as he said this, but he continued nevertheless.

"Riddle was an incredibly intelligent and likeable young man, impressing both teachers and peers alike with his smooth charm and unflappable intellect," Ron told them. "Upon finding out about his Slytherin heritage, for he had spent his childhood living in a muggle orphanage after his mum died in childbirth, his father having abandoned his mother and with Morfin and Marvolo serving sentences in Azkaban, Riddle took up the mantle of the pureblood cause."

"This is why he was such a positive for the movement, with his youthful, attractive appearance and his obvious intelligence and charm," Ron informed them. "It's what happened next that irreparably harmed the pureblood cause." Ron paused with a sigh, gearing himself up for the dramatic end of his story.

"At a conference in Diagon Alley Riddle was debating the issue with Albus Dumbledore, a huge proponent of muggleborn rights and of course the Headmaster of Hogwarts school at that time," Ron told them, setting the stage. "No one knows exactly why this happened, but Riddle snapped. Maybe it was always coming, maybe it was the pressure of debating against his old teacher, but on that day, he snapped."

"He started to fire curses into the crowd," Ron told a stunned audience. "He killed sixteen men, thirteen women and five children, as well as injuring countless others, before Dumbledore was able to take him out. As Dumbledore knocked him out he fell off the stage and snapped his neck, so ending the line of Slytherin."

There was silence as Ron finished his story. "Perhaps I didn't tell you enough about the Gaunt's," Ron suggested. "They were the last living descendants of Slytherin, and naturally proud to be so. But they were also insane. Marvolo raised both his children on his own, encouraging his son's tendencies to attack muggles from the local village while simultaneously punishing his daughter for a perceived weakness in her magic. Both men spent time in Azkaban, where Marvolo eventually died."

"It is even believed that the only reason young Tom Riddle Sr. ever married Merope Gaunt was because he had been slipped love potions by the young witch," Ron continued. "Whether her magic was weak or not is irrelevant, a muggle would have no chance fighting against a potion like that. It is believed that at some point she stopped administering the potion, for reasons unknown, which would explain the sudden disappearance of Riddle Sr. from her life."

"This may have been an extreme case," Ron spoke. "But that's the risk you run by trying too hard to keep your blood pure. If you value your family name too much in that regard you are cursed with the possibility of inbreeding and insanity."

Ron paused as he thought something over in his head. "Let's go back to my example," he said, leaning against the table behind him. "Me and Daphne Greengrass, on the surface a good pureblood match, right?" There were some nervous chuckles from the room.

"Let's see," Ron continued thoughtfully. "The Weasley family are related to the Black family. Narcissa Black married Lucius Malfoy, whose grandmother was Merla Greengrass." There was silence in the room. "There you go," Ron said, with the air of one pulling off a magic trick. "I am related to Daphne Greengrass, and thereby I'm also related to you, Darren."

The silence was once again broken by Professor Turner. "That's all… very impressive," she said, to which Ron gave her a grin. "But you haven't given any argument to say that purebloods shouldn't run the country."

"Purebloods shouldn't run the country," Harry spoke from the back of the room, causing everyone to turn to look at him. "There's your argument. Four of the seven most important people in this Ministry are purebloods, and I think that's simply ridiculous."

"Let me introduce Harry Potter, the Communications Director," Ron said as Harry walked up to the front of the room. "Harry, incidentally, is the person who should have been speaking to you for the last half hour."

"I've been busy," Harry shrugged, taking a bite from the apple he was carrying. "Anyway, who said purebloods should run the Ministry?"

Ron pointed. "That's Darren Greengrass over there," he introduced. "A cousin of Daphne's."

"Hey, nice to meet you," Harry said, smiling brightly. "I don't like you."

The rest of the students laughed at Harry's comment. "Seriously," Harry continued, taking another bite of his apple before gesturing to Ron. "You must be a little bit crazy to think he is better suited to running the country than I am." Harry turned to face him. "How are things going?"

Ron shrugged. "We're only just getting started," he told him. "I was just telling them how purebloods are going to die out." Harry nodded approvingly at that. "What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the goblins."

"I am," Harry replied with a grimace. "We've got really stuck on something so we're taking a break. I was just wandering around, stretching my legs, getting something to eat."

"Excuse me," Adam said, trying to get Harry's attention. "I thought the Potter family was pureblood."

Harry nodded, turning away from Ron to address the room as a whole. "It was," Harry replied. "At least until my dad married a muggleborn and had me. I'm what you would call a newly half-blood, someone who has one parent who is pureblood."

Harry turned back to Darren. "You believe purebloods should run the country?" he asked. "Because they grew up in our world?" Darren nodded. "I thought that would be your argument," Harry said, tossing his apple up with one hand and catching it with the other.

"My dad was pureblood," Harry said, pacing around the room, continuing to throw and catch his apple. "When he died I was raised by my godfather, Sirius Black, also a pureblood. Tell me, how have I been less immersed in the magical world than Ron has?"

All attention was focused on Darren, waiting for his answer, but none came.

"That's perhaps the biggest thing about this particular pureblood rights argument," Harry said, continuing his meander around the room. "It's all about comparisons between purebloods and muggleborns, which misses out the vast majority of the wizarding population. Most people are half-bloods and most half-bloods are raised in the wizarding world. Even accepting your argument to be valid, that doesn't explain why you want more rights for purebloods than you do for half-bloods."

"Why do purebloods not want half-bloods to share their rights?" a girl sitting in the middle asked. "Nichola Harlan," she added as Harry and Ron fixed her with questioning looks.

"Well, Nichola," Harry replied, resuming his stroll. "It all comes down to what type of half-blood you are talking about. Some half-bloods are raised in the muggle world, but most aren't. For proponents of this pureblood rights arguments there is the issue of how do you decide which of these half-bloods should get extra rights and which shouldn't. How far do you have to go before a pureblood childhood is one more immersed in wizarding culture than a half-blooded childhood?"

There was a knock on the door. Everyone looked up at the noise to see Neville standing there, waiting patiently. Harry sighed. "I've got to go," he said sadly. "I've got to get back to my meeting. I hope you've all learned something." Harry waved briefly to everyone before he stepped out of the room, Neville following behind him.

"Well, that was Harry Potter," Ron said as they watched him go. "Unfortunately he's got a lot of work on his plate at the moment and is unlikely to join us again today." Darren put up his hand. "Yes," Ron said, pointing to him.

"What Mr Potter just said about half-bloods," Darren started. "It makes sense. But why should muggleborns have the same rights as purebloods when they definitely don't grow up in our world?"

Ron was about to answer when an idea struck him. "Hold on a sec," he said as he started to make his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" Professor Turner hissed at him as she followed him out of the door. "You are not abandoning my students."

"No, I'm not," Ron agreed, turning to the young professor and noticing for the first time how attractive she was underneath her bulky professors robes.

"What?" Turner asked, confused by the way Ron had just stopped mid sentence.

"Sorry," Ron said, snapping back to the present by the sound of her voice. "I'm just so used to professors being old and grey that it is a bit of a shock to talk to one who is somewhat attractive."

Turner raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Mr Weasley you make me blush," she said stone-faced. "You must have a really good time with the ladies."

"Oh yeah, I'm a real casanova, Loraine," Ron joked.

"That's Professor Turner to you, Mr Weasley," Turner admonished.

"Inside that room, yes," Ron replied, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "But outside that room it is my choice what I call you, and to me you are Loraine."

"And to me you are Mr Weasley," Turner countered, her eyes challenging him. "And while my students are here I will remain one hundred percent professional."

"Well maybe after the students are gone you and I can get to first name terms," Ron suggested playfully. "I'm just going to get a colleague of mine," Ron told her, his voice becoming serious again. "Go back inside and I'll be back before you know it."

Turner looked at him suspiciously for a moment, before eventually seeming to take his word, turning back to the room and closing the door behind her. Turning himself, Ron walked casually down the corridor, revelling in the fact that he had no need to rush as he made his way to his destination. Eventually he entered her office.

"Hey."

Hermione looked up from her parchment, surprised to see him standing before her. "Hey Ron," she said, turning back to her parchment. "What are you doing here? I thought you were educating the next generation of politicians?"

"Ha ha, very funny," Ron said, folding his arms defensively. "You knew about this? What, did everyone conspire to fill their diaries so I'd get stuck with the students?"

"Yes, Ron, we hate both you and the students that much," Hermione said dryly. "Did you have anything to say or did you just want to complain? Demelza handles complaints."

Ron took a second to reply, calming himself as he mulled over his words. "Well," he said, lightly resting a hand on her desk, causing Hermione to stare at it in annoyance. "I was just talking to the students, debating with them, and they came up with a very intriguing topic you might be interested in."

Hermione looked up at him. "What topic?" Hermione asked shortly, well aware that Ron was trying to play her.

"Pureblood rights," Ron said. "Darren Greengrass had some pretty interesting views on how much we should really trust muggleborns in high positions."

"Darren Greengrass?" Hermione repeated, a slight twitch in her eye. "Daphne's cousin?"

"You know?" Ron asked, only moderately surprised.

"I've looked over the security report on the group," Hermione explained for him. "It's my job."

Ron nodded. "Anyway, Harry was able to convince them that there was no reason for purebloods to have more rights than half-bloods," Ron said, leading on suggestively. "How about we have a muggleborn tell them why muggleborns should have equal rights."

Hermione stared at him hard, the cogs in her head turning as she weighed up her decision. "Alright, I'll do it," she said, standing up behind her desk. "But don't think I don't realise you are trying to play me Ron, I've known you far too long."

"Yes, you have," Ron said quietly as he followed her out of the office, a satisfied smile resting upon his face. They made it back to the Murphy Room in half the time it took Ron to travel from there, Hermione striding purposefully ahead. She walked straight in, not bothering to knock as she swept into the room, doing a very good impersonation of Professor McGonagall.

"You," she said, pointing firmly at Darren who looked quite terrified as he was placed under her gaze. "You are the one who believes that purebloods should have more rights than muggleborns." Darren nodded, leaning back as far as he could as if to escape Hermione's gaze. "Explain your position."

Darren gulped in the face of the angered woman but, after encouraging looks from Ron and Professor Turner, he plucked up the courage to state his beliefs. "I believe purebloods have a better understanding of the wizarding world," he said timidly. "They've grown up in it. Can you say the same about muggleborns?"

Hermione looked at him, her expression firm as she sized him up, before she suddenly seemed to settle down. "Well, you obviously are certain of your beliefs," Hermione acknowledged. "I respect that, which is why I'll go easy on you when I tell you why you're wrong." Darren nodded, although he seemed unaware why he did so.

"Can I just ask you," she said. "What was the first spell you learned?"

"The levitation Charm," Darren answered. "Wingardium Leviosa."

"Ah, Wingardium Leviosa," Ron said whimsically, a smile on his face as he reminisced. "I got so pissed off at you for correcting me on that."

Hermione ignored him. "I'm sure it would be a safe bet to assume that was the first spell you all learned?" Hermione asked. There were nods from the students. "Well there you go."

"It's Leviooooosa, not Leviosaaaa," Ron said from behind her, still completely lost in the past as he swung his legs under the table he was sitting upon.

"Ron," Hermione said dangerously, giving him a very stern look.

"Right," Ron said hastily, coming back to the present. "You're right, not the time."

Hermione nodded in satisfaction before turning back to the students. "That's the first spell all of you learned," she told them. "That's the first spell Ron and I learned as well. That's the first spell every magical child learns. Magic may be all around you as a child or not, but always you first learn to practice magic in your first year of Hogwarts. Regardless of whether you are pureblood, half-blood or muggleborn you all start in the same place."

"But what about other things?" Darren asked. "Wizarding culture, children with magical parents are much more in tune with what is expected in wizarding society."

"Yes, when they first go off to Hogwarts," Hermione admitted. "Then we spend the next seven years teaching the children about all of this stuff, so when it matters muggleborns know just as much about wizarding society as purebloods do. We devote some of our greatest minds to educate you and prepare you for the wizarding world."

"But that can't compare to what you are taught growing up," Darren argued. "How can we trust muggleborns to run the country when they don't know everything there is to know about our society?"

"Like our children's stories?" Hermione questioned. "Our baby products? You don't learn what you need to help run a country when your age is in single digits. How many nine year olds do you know who have any real grasp of politics?"

Darren opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again, realising he didn't have anything to say. Hermione nodded, satisfied she'd won the debate.

"It's pretty stupid to think muggleborns would ever be far behind when it comes to understanding our culture," Ron said. "They may not have lived in our world but they have lived in _a_ world."

"That's right," Hermione agreed, looking at Ron approvingly. "The lessons we learn as a child are things like good manners, and how we should always try to do the right thing. These are lessons learned in both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Muggleborns may seem like they are behind their pureblood and half-blood counterparts when they first arrive in the magical world, but in the things that truly matter they're really not."

There was silence in the room as Hermione finished speaking, each of the students thinking about what had just been said. Seeing the silent room before her, Hermione decided it was time to leave.

"Well, I've said my bit," she said jauntily. "I'm going back to my office. I'll see you later Ron," she said as she turned to Ron. Ron nodded to her, which Hermione followed by walking briskly out of the room, leaving the door to slowly swing shut behind her.

"Well," Ron said, glancing at his watch as he wondered how much longer he had to stay with them. "Is there anything else you people want to say about this issue, or shall we move on to something else?"

After a moment a hand was raised by one of the students, a young boy with closely cut blonde hair speaking. "I just had a few questions about the Wizengamot," he said, to which Ron started nodding.

Looking out at the students and biting his lip, Ron came to a decision. "You know what, lets go to the cafeteria and continue the conversation there," he suggested, jumping down from the table. "I'm starving."

* * *

There was silence in Meeting Room 1 as the group of goblins and humans stood and sat in different parts of the room, thinking hard.

"Seriously, anything," Harry said, pacing back and forth along the length of the table. "Any idea, lets just get something out there to work with."

Neville sighed as he leaned forward in his chair, brushing away balled up pieces of parchment to see the sheet lying beneath. "I don't know," he said tiredly. "What about a vote?"

"In the Council?" Harry asked, walking closer to the table in the hope that they were on to something.

"Yeah," Neville said, clearly not having thought the idea would have any merit and having not thought his argument all the way through. "We hold a vote. Each member of the Council says who they think should hold the deciding vote. Whoever gets the most votes will settle all ties in the Council."

"Goblins won't vote for a human," Boltspark said roughly. "And humans won't vote for a goblin."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we'll get a tied vote," Neville pointed out, running with the idea. "Whoever gets the most votes will be the one who, human or goblin, holds the most support from their own individual race." Neville stopped himself, trying to figure out how to explain his point.

"Say this is how the votes go," Neville started. "Imagine six of the wizards vote for the same wizard, with that wizard voting for another of the wizards. Now say three goblins vote for one goblin, two vote for another and the last two vote for a third. We can see from this that the wizards have more confidence in their nomination, with six votes, than the goblins do with their three vote nomination."

"Wouldn't that just be punishing the goblins for having a better spread of expertise?" Harry asked. "If their votes are split doesn't that just show that they have more than one viable candidate. Besides, if the Council knew that's how it would work wouldn't they just arrange for them all to vote for the same man."

Neville bit his lip. "How about each Council member has to use one vote on a wizard and one on a goblin," he suggested.

"Doesn't help, I'm afraid," Griphook said. "Regardless of how fairly we try to decide who takes the deciding vote goblins won't be happy if a wizard holds it and I'm sure wizards would likewise be displeased if it were a goblin that would be chosen."

"What about a representative for both the humans and the goblins?" Harry asked, before bringing his hands up to rub his face as he realised what he'd just said. "Don't tell me, we would still end up with a tie." Harry sighed as he leaned forward against the table. "This is ridiculous, there's got to be something."

"Goblins won't like a wizard with that power and wizards won't like the goblins to hold it," Neville said tiredly. "We can't give the right to decide ties to either a human or a goblin, or any body that does not consist of exactly half human and half goblin, which simply defeats the point."

There was silence in the room again as they moved back to square one, each of the representatives in the room wracking their brain for anything they hadn't already thought off.

"We can't give the right to decide ties…," Copperbub said quietly to himself. "… to either a human or a goblin." The rest of the room paid him no mind, leaving him to his thoughts as they worked on their own for an answer. "I think I've got an idea."

Everyone turned to stare at Copperbub, expressions mixed between hope and frustration. "Well," Harry said impatiently. "What is it? What's the idea?"

Copperbub took a drink of water, his movements slow and deliberate as he gave himself time to think things through. "We can't give this right to either humans or goblins," he repeated again. "The only logical conclusion would be to give the right to a third party, or rather, third race."

That got their attention. "Who were you thinking?" Neville asked. "Dwarves?"

Copperbub shook his head. "No, they know nothing of finance, they would be less than useless in this situation," he said. "I was thinking… centaurs."

"They don't have any knowledge of finance either," Boltspark pointed out, confused by his colleagues suggestion.

"No, they don't," Copperbub agreed. "But they are very intelligent creatures, who are very familiar with the concept of debate. My idea is that we have a small group of centaurs, perhaps three or five, and have them decide what we should do."

"Based on what they hear when the two sides of the argument debate in the Council," Harry caught on, his mind whirring. "That's brilliant, it'd solve the issue of trust, we'd get a result either way and each side would have the opportunity to make their case."

"Would the centaurs be willing to do this, though?" Neville wondered. "It would be a very big commitment for the centaurs involved to leave their families and travel to wherever we hold these meetings."

"They won't have to do it often," Harry intervened. "Only when there is a tie, otherwise they have no vote."

"We can transport them by magical means when needed," Boltspark agreed. "I know the Ministry have the ability to arrange governmental port keys."

"Yeah," Harry said. "As a commitment this isn't really that big. They'll rarely be called up and the decision they come to will not have any major effect on their lives or the lives of any other centaur."

"Which may lead them to put no thought into the matter," Neville warned. "When there are no consequences to what they choose then they won't have any need to expend much thought on the issue itself."

"But this will only happen in the case where we reach a tie," Harry repeated. "If we have reached a tie that means that seven financial experts think one thing and the other seven think the opposite, how bad can it be if the centaurs end up making the wrong choice?"

"We'll talk to the centaurs," Griphook said as Harry turned to him. "We are already trying to gain better relations with their race, so that will undoubtedly aide our cause."

Harry nodded. "So that's it?" he asked. "Nothing else to talk about?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"Alright, we'll look into locations for the Council," Harry said, clapping his hands together. "You can talk to the centaurs and we'll meet up again tomorrow, at, say, midday."

"Sounds good," Griphook said as the three goblins rose from their chairs. "We'll see you tomorrow." As the goblins made their way to the door Griphook paused. "I know I probably shouldn't say this," he said, turning back to Harry. "But I believe we are very close here, Harry."

"Me too," Harry smiled. Griphook gave him his trademark grin before turning to leave, following his colleagues in the Goblin Council out the door.

* * *

"You enjoying that sandwich?" Ron asked, chomping down on his own snack as he addressed the woman sitting to his left at their round table in the cafeteria.

"Yes, it's very nice," Professor Turner answered, eating her sandwich much more delicately than Ron was.

"You know," Ron said, placing his sandwich down again. "That was the sort of question I might ask you on a date."

Professor Turner looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You'd have me ordering a sandwich on our date?" She asked. "Why are you still going on with this, I thought I'd made it clear I am here in a purely professional capacity?"

Ron shrugged, finishing the last of his sandwich in one go. "Well, you're not going to go on a date with me if I don't ask you," he reasoned, miming weighing up his options. "I don't really see how I can lose in this situation."

"Perhaps you should be paying more attention to the students than you are to me," Professor Turner admonished him. Ron glanced around, noting the students sitting around them at other nearby tables, eating or drinking as they chatted amongst themselves.

"They don't seem to need any attention," Ron decided fairly, turning back to Professor Turner. "So, Loraine-"

"Mr Weasley," a voice said suddenly, causing Ron to sigh and turn to him.

"Yes?" he said, trying to hide his annoyance.

"You said you were going to talk to us about the Wizengamot," the boy reminded him. Ron glanced at the other students, noting their full attention had returned to him.

"Okay," Ron agreed, accepting his fate. "Lets talk. What is it you want to know about the Wizengamot?"

"Everything," the boy answered. "What they do, how they get elected, what power do they have over the Ministry or Merlin's Council?…"

"The Wizengamot has no power over the Ministry or Merlin's Council," Ron replied. "While the Ministry requires the Wizengamot and Council to pass our bills and while neither the Wizengamot nor the Council can introduce bills of their own each body is completely separate."

"The role of the Wizengamot is really very simple," he continued. "There are 199 members and in order for any bill to be made law we would require over half of the members of the Wizengamot to vote in favour of it. The bill would then go before the Council, but that's a different matter altogether."

"So how does the average witch or wizard become a Warlock of the Wizengamot?" Nichola Harlan asked.

"Well, first of all the people in the Wizengamot are not your average witch or wizard," Ron responded. "Any person, regardless of what they've done in the past, can run for a seat in the Wizengamot. The problem for most people is that this is politics, and those who don't understand politics tend to get easily blown aside."

"Britain is split into multiple regions," Ron explained animatedly. "And in each of these regions potential candidates for the Wizengamot run against each other in the hope of being elected by the public of their particular area."

"Has anyone seen a parent, or perhaps an older sibling, vote?" Ron asked, to which several of the students nodded or raised their hands. "It's a simple process. A few weeks before the election the Ministry sends them their ballot form by owl post and all they have to do is tick against their chosen candidate and send their ballot back before the deadline."

"How can you be sure the right person receives the ballot?" Adam Wood asked. "Isn't it possible that the owls can be intercepted?"

"It is," Ron agreed. "And at every election we know that people try to do these things. But each ballot has a spell placed upon them that picks up the magical aura of the user. When we receive the replies not only do we see who they voted for, we also first test the aura on the letter and try to match it with the aura we have in our records as belonging to the addressee. If none or a very small fraction of the aura collected is of the intended voter the ballot will be classed as null and void."

"So there is no way to prevent people from having their ballots intercepted?" Adam asked. "So if I knew someone was going to vote a certain way I could stop them by intercepting their vote."

"Not quite," Ron disagreed. "When we receive an intercepted vote we contact the intended voter by floo and simply ask them for their vote. Also the ballots are laced with tracker charms, so if you steal one we'll know where you've taken it and we'll be alerted even earlier that it never made it to its intended target."

"Moving on from that," Darren Greengrass said, waving it aside. "How is the winner of the election chosen, do they need a certain percentage of the vote or do they just need to beat the other people?"

"It's a simple most votes wins type of election," Ron agreed. He glanced at his watch. "Do you know what time we're meant to finish?" he asked Professor Turner.

"We will be here until Headmistress McGonagall comes to take us back to Hogwarts?" Professor Turner answered.

"Damn, I should have left a note back in the Murphy Room that we would be here," Ron swore.

"Indeed you should have, Mr Weasley." Ron would have recognised that voice anywhere. Turning in his chair, Ron stood up as he found Minerva McGonagall standing behind him.

"I apologise, Professor," Ron said humbly.

McGonagall nodded slightly in acceptance of his apology. "Fortunately your assistant, Mr Creevey, was able to keep tabs on you and pointed me in the direction of the cafeteria," McGonagall spoke, looking down through her spectacles at Ron. "I cannot say I was particularly surprised to find you here."

Ron laughed, surprising the students who were trying their best not to have any attention drawn to them as their Headmistress stared down their host. "I was at Hogwarts for seven years ma'am," Ron replied. "I would be shocked to find you'd forgotten."

A rare smile tugged at the corner of McGonagall's lips, breaking away from the thin line she usually held them in. "As would I, Mr Weasley," she replied.

"Are you going?" Ron asked. "I know Harry and Hermione would love to see you again, if you want to hang around for a bit longer I can go get them."

McGonagall shook her head. "Thank you for the offer, Mr Weasley," she said to him. "But as much as I do wish to see Mr Potter and Miss Granger again I must first return to my duties at Hogwarts. Students, follow me."

As the students milled around and started to follow their Headmistress, Ron called Professor Turner back, waiting patiently as the students left the cafeteria. "The students are gone," Ron said simply as the door fell shut behind them. "Now I can ask you. Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Loraine smiled, shaking her head as though she could not believe him. "I've got to say, you are persistent," she replied. "But I came here with the students and I'm going to leave here with the students. I must remain professional."

"You're not with the students now," Ron pointed out.

Loraine laughed. "You've got guts, Weasley," she said, moving away to the door. "Thanks, but no thanks. That's just the way it is."

As Loraine left Ron couldn't help but smile, the ache at being rejected surprisingly light as he relived her words to him. Feeling oddly buoyed by the conversation, Ron left the cafeteria, an extra skip in his step as he prepared himself for the rest of the day.

* * *

Harry sat quietly behind his desk, occasionally making a quick note on the sheet of parchment lying before him. It was dark in the room, the window displaying a nighttime scene as Harry worked by the soft glow of his lamp. The Ministry was quiet now, many of its workers having already returned home. But for people like Harry their work was never finished early.

"Hey Harry," Ron said, knocking on his door.

Harry stopped writing and looked up. "What's up?" he asked, relaxing his muscles as he dropped his quill onto his desk.

"I heard about the goblins," Ron said, taking a couple of steps inside. "Things seem to be going well."

Harry nodded. "They are," he agreed. "Griphook said he thinks we're almost there, provided everything works out with the centaurs, that is."

"But apart from that you're done?" Ron replied. "Have you decided on a location yet?"

"Neville's got a list of possible sites we can start building on," Harry told him. "I can't imagine the goblins will have a problem with any of them so yeah, we're almost done." Harry regarded Ron. "How have things been for you today?"

"Well, first I'd like to thank you for foisting that meeting onto me," Ron said sarcastically. "I was really wondering what I was going to do all day."

"Did Colin rearrange all your appointments?" Harry asked.

"For tomorrow," Ron replied. "You have no idea how busy I'm going to be because of this."

Harry smiled at Ron's comment. "But you enjoyed it," he said, knowing better than to believe Ron's display of annoyance. "It's a nice change from what we're usually saddled with."

Ron shrugged non-committal, idly playing with some quills on Harry's desk.

"What did you want to say to me?" Harry asked, catching Ron off guard. "Come on, Ron, I know the difference between when you come for work and when you come for a chat. What's going on?"

Ron sighed, shifting nervously on his feet. "Do you remember what it was like when we first graduated from Hogwarts?" he asked, prompting Harry to raise an eyebrow. "You know, how we'd go out to clubs and just drink and talk and try to pick up girls."

"Where are you going with this?" Harry asked warily.

Ron rubbed at his face nervously, not looking at Harry. "Could we, I don't know, do that again?" he asked.

"Ron," Harry spoke up. "I have a girlfriend."

Ron shook his head. "I know that," he said, frustrated. "But, you know, you could be my wingman, you know, like we used to do back in the day."

Harry regarded Ron for a long moment. "You're really up for this?" he asked, to which Ron nodded. "I mean, I thought you were waiting for Josephine."

Ron sighed. "I was," he admitted. "But Harry, that was over three weeks ago. I can't just spend my time waiting for someone who may never even show up again. I need to get out there, I need to get back in the game."

Harry leaned back in his chair, a smile starting to spread across his face. "Alright," he said, nodding his head. "Lets do it. Tonight."

"Tonight?" Ron repeated, his eyes widening like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Yes, tonight," Harry told him. "Ginny's out of town so I'm completely free. And, you know, the sooner the better."

"Alright," Ron nodded, before repeating more confidently. "Alright, lets do it," he said loudly. "I've got a few things to sort through before we go but I'll come see you when I'm ready."

Harry nodded. "See you soon," he told his grinning friend, who slipped out of his office and into his own next door. Going back to his work Harry was interrupted just a minute later by another knock on his door.

"Finished already?" he asked, looking up at the sound. "Oh, sorry Hermione, I thought you were Ron."

Hermione smiled at him. "Don't worry about it," she said as she walked further into his office. "I just wanted to go over something before you went home. Were you and Ron doing something?"

"Oh yeah, we're going out to a club tonight," Harry said, eliciting a raising of the eyebrows from Hermione. "Ron wants to get back into the game," Harry explained. "I'm just there to be his wingman."

"Oh," Hermione said, her voice betraying her surprise. "Right." She was quiet for a long time, seemingly lost in thought as she stood there.

"Hermione," Harry said gently, reminding her of his presence. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yes," she said quickly, her brain snapping back into focus. "I was just a bit surprised, that's all. I'm actually going out with Michael tonight anyway."

"Have fun," Harry said, watching her as he waited patiently. "Hermione, what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh, right," Hermione responded, remembering why she'd come to him in the first place. "The werewolf report."

"I've read it," Harry told her. "It doesn't tell us anything we didn't already know, I don't think we need to even tell anyone about it."

"I agree, but I think someone has got wind of it in the media," Hermione told him. "I'm just a bit worried that, if we wait until they call us out on it, it might seem as though we're trying to hide something from them."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Okay," he said. "Stick it in the morning briefing, tell them we've received it but that it doesn't give us any new information about the condition."

"Hey Harry, you ready to go?" Ron said, appearing in the doorway.

"Yep," Harry said, standing up and throwing on his cloak. "I just need to change."

Ron nodded. "Me too," he said. "Meet you at the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry nodded. "Alright, see you soon. See you tomorrow, Hermione." Ron waved goodbye as he set off down the corridor and out of sight.

"See you tomorrow," Harry repeated as he walked past Hermione. "And stand by for news about the finance council, we're almost there."

"Alright, bye Harry," Hermione replied, watching as Harry left, saying his goodbyes to Cho as he passed. Standing alone in the doorway to Harry's office, Hermione had to wonder why she suddenly seemed to feel so miserable. Shaking off the feeling as best she could Hermione strolled away swiftly, determined not to let her bizarre change of mood dampen her evening.

* * *

"Morning Neville," Harry said, walking into Neville's office and dropping a stack of parchment on his desk. "Morning Alea."

"Morning Harry," Neville replied, Alea smiling from where she rested against Neville's desk. "What's all this for?"

"It's the information you asked Hannah for," Harry responded. "I offered to bring it to you since I was heading here anyway." Neville nodded as he started to look through the sheets of parchment. "Have you heard anything from the goblins?"

Neville shook his head. "Nope," he replied. "Nothing, which I'm not sure is a good or a bad thing." Harry nodded in agreement to that.

"Is Amos back to work yet?" Harry asked with a frown.

"No, he's still in the hospital wing," Neville responded. "I've spoken with the healer in charge of his care. Apparently Amos' immune system isn't as strong as it should be so he's taking a lot longer to fight the infection."

"Sounds rough," Harry said with a sigh. "You just know it's got to be bad to keep Amos away from work."

Neville chuckled. "Yep, that's Amos," he sighed happily. Looking at Harry a smile started to slowly spread across Neville's face. "So I heard you had a pretty eventful night?"

Harry looked up at him in surprise. "How did you know about that?" he asked incredulously.

"You haven't seen Ron this morning yet, have you?" Neville chuckled. "About ten minutes ago he came bounding into the room, hugged me, then Alea and then practically danced with Hannah before skipping off."

"Huh," Harry said, scratching his chin. "And here I thought he'd be more discrete."

Neville chuckled. "What happened?" he asked interestedly.

Harry took a deep breath before recounting the events of the night before. "We went to a club last night and he met a girl," Harry told them. "Who knows what exactly happened but I soon found myself on my own in the club with nothing but Ron's half finished beer for company."

"What was the girl like?" Alea asked interestedly.

"Well, she was blonde," Harry responded, thinking hard. "She was not too tall. And she had really large breasts." Harry paused as he saw the looks of consternation on Neville and Alea's face. "I only saw her for about a minute," Harry defended himself.

"Well," Neville said. "I think we can be pretty sure what did happen last night. Good for Ron."

"Good for Ron?" Alea repeated. "What's good about just sleeping with someone because they've got big breasts?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Harry joked. "Ron just needed to get back into the game, that's all. And it's not like you see a girl in a club and say 'oh, I'd like to get to know her, she seems to have common interests with me'."

"Especially with guys," Neville said. "I read a study that said that while girls don't really think about it too much, when a guy walks into a room he automatically judges everyone in the room as a potential sex partner. Subconsciously, of course," Neville added at the look Alea was giving him.

"Yes, well, while I don't think 'big breasted blonde girl A' is going to be the nice stable girlfriend that Ron is looking for," Harry said. "I do think, though, that perhaps a one-night stand is really what he needs at the moment."

Alea didn't look convinced while Neville just shrugged at the comment, clearly unwilling to lend his opinion with his girlfriend in the room.

"Was your girlfriend not annoyed that you went out to a club last night without her?" Alea asked. "I mean, I know nothing happened but I can imagine she'd be quite annoyed that you ditched her for her brother."

"Ginny would understand," Harry said confidently. "She knows how tough this has been for Ron just as well as I do. Besides, it's our anniversary tonight so I've got big plans to make it up to her."

"Anyway, I just stopped off to speak with you about the goblins," Harry said after a brief pause, making his way back to the door. "See you later."

"See you later, Harry, and good luck," Neville responded as Harry left the office, walking past Hannah's desk as he moved through the Ministry.

"Hey Harry," Ron said exuberantly, suddenly appearing at Harry's shoulder with a bounce of boundless energy. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Harry replied, getting over the surprise of Ron's arrival. "How are you? Or rather, how was she?"

Ron grinned. "Absolutely amazing, Harry," he said wondrously. "She took me back to her place and boy was she up for it. Seriously, I hardly had to do anything before she started pulling off my clothes and-"

"Ron, stop," Harry said as they came into range of their offices. "Seriously, I'm happy for you, but I don't need the details."

"Oh come on, Harry," Ron replied. "Did you not see her. Those breasts…"

"Ron, if you continue to talk about this I'm going to start telling you about what I do to your sister in my free time," Harry said firmly, immediately silencing Ron. "We'll talk later."

"But not about this," Ron said worriedly.

"Not about this," Harry repeated firmly, opening his office door and walking inside. A couple of steps in he stopped, rubbing his eyes as he sighed. "Bill, are you always going to be here when I say inappropriate stuff about your sister?"

"I hope so," Bill replied, giving Harry a piercing look. "I'd hate to think that you had said inappropriate things about my sister at times when I haven't been here to witness it too."

"Right," Harry said, moving passed Bill and round to the seat behind his desk. "What can I do for you today, Bill?"

"I've come with a message from the Goblin Council," Bill said formally. "They have spoken with the centaurs and they have agreed with your proposition."

"Fantastic," Harry grinned, giving a short sigh of relief that the plan had worked. "Are they still coming in to meet with us today?"

Bill nodded. "They just sent me ahead to give a heads up," he told Harry. "They also wanted me to say that if they are able to accept any of your propositions for Council locations the Goblin Council will be ready to sign off on it by this afternoon."

Harry froze, staying perfectly still and silent as he stared at Bill. "They really said that?" Harry eventually asked, his voice breathless.

Bill nodded.

Harry staggered to his feet, hardly able to believe they were almost finished. "I've got to talk to Neville," he said quickly. "And Hermione, they've got to know. Thanks Bill."

Harry strode quickly out the office without another word, walking swiftly through the corridors with such purpose that everyone simply got out of his way.

"Neville," Harry said sharply as he reached his office, causing Neville to look up in surprise. "It's done."

The surprise on Neville's face turned to outright shock. "Done?" he whispered breathlessly, half rising out of his chair. "As in, really done?"

Harry nodded. "Bill just came to tell me," he said. "All we need is for the goblins to approve one of the building sights and they're ready to sign off on it."

"Oh my god," Neville said, lowering himself back down in his seat. "We've done it? I can't believe it. We've done it." A full blown smile spread across his face as he looked back up at Harry. "We've done it."

Harry smiled back. "We've done it."

* * *

"Good afternoon everybody," Hermione said as she reached the podium at the front of the press room. "If you could all take your seats we can begin." Hermione shifted through her papers as the various reporters sat down, waiting for her to speak.

"I'd like to announce that later today the Minister and the Head of the Goblin Council will each sign off on the creation of a new finance council with both goblin and human representatives," Hermione spoke.

Instantly the crowd of reporters in front of her started talking loudly, asking her question after question which all jumbled together into a simple wall of noise. Ignoring the clamours from the reporters of questions, Hermione pressed on.

"The signing will take place later today with both the Minister's and the Head of the Goblin Council's signatures attached to the document to officially bring the finance council into existence," Hermione said loudly, cutting across the reporters and making her voice heard as the reporters started to calm down and listen to her. "There will be two copies of the document created, one of which will be held in the Ministry while the other will be held with the goblins at Gringotts. The Minister and the Head of the Goblin Council will each sign one copy in their own office. After that messengers will swap the two copies of the documents and again the Minister and the Head of the Goblin Council will add their signatures. At this point the finance council will be an official body recognised both by wizarding society and the goblin state."

"Hermione, what exactly will be contained in this document?" Sophie asked from the crowd of reporters.

"The document itself is still being drawn together as we speak," Hermione spoke. "It was only today that both sides came to a full agreement about all the proposals made. At this moment Ministry officials are working with Communications Director, Harry Potter, to fit together all the agreed upon proposals into one single document. I believe at last count said document numbered at one hundred and thirty four pages long."

"Hermione," several reporters cried out, each of them wishing to get their question answered next before any of their colleagues could get the scoop.

"Donald," Hermione said, pointing through the crowd to the familiar balding gentleman.

"Hermione, what can you tell us about this new finance council?" Donald asked as everyone else fell quiet.

"Well, I can tell you that it will be dealing exclusively with financial matters," Hermione responded, the joke only getting a few chuckles as the reporters waited on tenterhooks for any information Hermione was willing to give out. "Seriously though, I do know that the Council will consist of precisely seven goblins and seven wizards, with a committee of three centaurs being consulted in the case of a tie in the votes."

"Please settle down, I can't even hear myself think," Hermione shouted as the crowd started to get out of control, everyone clambering for attention. "If everyone can just remain quiet until I am finished speaking we will be able to get through this all a lot quicker." The reporters started to calm down at that. "Thank you."

"The Council will be located at a sight in the countryside of Northern Ireland," Hermione continued, reading off the notes Harry had provided her with before she'd entered the press room. "Given the fact that this will be a new build to house the Council we do not have a definite timeframe for when the Council will first be brought into session."

"I can tell you that over the next few weeks both the Ministry and the Goblin Council will be working to appoint members to the Council in order for the Council to be able to meet as soon as construction work in Northern Ireland is finished," Hermione continued, starting to wrap up her speech. "I have the Deputy Chief of Staff, Neville Longbottom, here with me today so if you have no more questions for me I will allow him to take the floor and hopefully he'll be able to answer your queries in more detail than I would ever be able to manage."

Hermione finished speaking and started gathering up her files as she prepared to yield the floor to Neville, none of the reporters seeming to have anything more to say to her.

"Hermione, just a quick question before you go," Michael said suddenly, stopping Hermione in her tracks as she waited for him to speak. "I was under the impression that it was the Chief of Staff, Amos Diggory, who was leading negotiations with the Goblin Council. No disrespect to Neville, but why isn't Amos here speaking with us instead?"

Slightly confused by where the question had come from, Hermione nevertheless gave him an answer. "Amos is currently suffering from a rather nasty case of the flu, and is therefore unavailable to speak to you at this point," Hermione informed him simply. "But I can assure you that Neville has played a major part in these negotiations and is fully informed on anything you may wish to know about the Council and its responsibilities."

"Alright," Michael conceded, making a note on his pad as Hermione finished speaking. "Well, tell Amos I hope he gets better soon."

"Will do," Hermione replied, still confused as she left the podium, allowing Neville to make his way forward.

Placing down a rather thick newly bound book onto the podium, Neville started to address the reporters. "As my colleague has already just mentioned the Council will be located in the countryside of Northern Ireland," he began, speaking clearly. "More precisely it will be located in the hills to the south-east of the city of Derry…"

What Neville didn't know was that what he was saying wasn't going to be on the front page of the next day's Daily Prophet, but that the story that was going to take its place was currently already scribbled down on a notepad of one of the reporters sitting in front of him. He would find out, though, soon enough.


	9. Leaked

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

Quietly Harry slipped out of the door to the flat, making sure he had a key on him before gently pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click. Dressed in only an old, loose-fitting shirt and a pair of worn out trackies, with his shoes being worn barefoot, Harry moved swiftly and silently down the stairs to the mail room. Slipping the key out from his pocket, Harry opened Ginny's mail slot and pulled the contents out, noting there were a couple of letters to go with the usual morning's edition of the Daily Prophet.

Harry made his way back up the stairs again, head down as he scanned over the envelopes he'd picked up, checking that they were all in fact addressed to Ginny. Reaching the second floor, he bumped into a familiar face.

"Good morning, Mrs Peterson," he said with a smile as they met on the landing.

"Good morning to you too, Harry," Mrs Peterson responded, smiling warmly up at him. Mrs Peterson was quite an old woman, but was nevertheless always full of energy. Despite the early hour she was already fully dressed with her brownish grey hair pulled back into a neat little bun.

"I'm surprised to see you here at this time of day," she continued, peering up at him questioningly through her delicate glasses. "I'd have thought you'd have been at work."

"I've taken the morning off," Harry told her politely. "It was mine and Ginny's two year anniversary yesterday, so I thought I'd spend the day with her and make up for work some other time."

"Ah, so sweet," Mrs Peterson practically purred. "I must say, hearing what you two kids get up to reminds me of the good old days with Mr Peterson. He looked quite a bit like you, come to think of it."

"Really?" Harry said interestedly, folding the letters under his arm as he focused on the woman before him. "I didn't know that. In what way did we look alike?"

"Hang on, let me just show you a picture," Mrs Peterson offered, fiddling with the clasp of her handbag as she searched around. "Ah, here we go. This was a picture of us taken by a professional photographer only a few days before he proposed."

Harry took the picture carefully, knowing how valuable it must be for the elderly woman before him. In the picture Mrs Peterson was an awful lot younger than she was now, smiling brilliantly as she was held in the arms of a fair headed young man, who, Harry noticed, couldn't take his eyes off the woman in his arms, a rapturous expression on his face.

"He had it all arranged for our two year anniversary," Mrs Peterson said, smiling fondly at the picture. "He wouldn't tell me where he was taking me to dinner and I got so annoyed at him when he apparated me outside his favourite restaurant. It wasn't the fanciest place, Jack wasn't a particularly fancy man. But then he led me a couple of doors down to this photography studio."

Mrs Peterson sighed happily. "When we got there he apologised for keeping me waiting for dinner, he said he just wanted to remember the moment for the rest of his life." Mrs Peterson brushed a tear from her eye. "He was a good man."

"It looks like the two of you were really happy," Harry said, passing her back the photo. "It must be hard now he's no longer with us."

Mrs Peterson nodded. "Yes, yes, it is," she said, sniffing slightly. "But when you lose someone you love you can't worry about them not being with you anymore, you've just got to remember them as they were and live your life as they would have wanted you to."

Harry nodded solemnly, understanding far more than Mrs Peterson could have possibly known he could.

"Well, anyway, no use crying about it now," Mrs Peterson said, dabbing at her eyes with a frilly handkerchief. "No point getting all upset when there is another beautiful day to enjoy. Ah, good morning Ginny dear."

Ginny had silently slipped through the doorway, dressed in Harry's old jumper, her pyjama bottoms and a pair of thick woollen socks her mum had knitted her for Christmas one year. "Hello, Mrs Peterson," she said warmly, wrapping her arms around her body to try and keep in the warmth on the cold November morning.

"Harry here was just telling me it was your anniversary yesterday," Mrs Peterson said happily, loving the time she got to spend with the younger adults. "I still remember the first time he came here. It was Christmas Eve and I was just coming home from my last minute Christmas shopping to find this young man at the door, standing there all nervous with a nice little parcel in his hands."

"And of course I was at my parents' for Christmas," Ginny said with a smile, glancing warmly at Harry as Mrs Peterson continued her story.

"Yes, well that's what I told him," Mrs Peterson said, not noticing that she'd lost the attention of her listeners. "He looked so uncertain, it was simply adorable…"

"Harry?" Ginny said concernedly as Harry's expression grew more and more serious as he read the front page of the Daily Prophet. "Harry, what's the matter?"

Harry didn't answer her immediately, still reading through the last lines of the article in question. Eventually he finished and looked up at Ginny, his face a stony mask as he handed the newspaper over.

Ginny took it warily as Harry watched her for her reaction. As soon as she read the headline her mouth opened in a silent gasp, a hand rising to cover it as she read through the first few lines of the article. "Oh my," she whispered, her gaze going to meet Harry's. "Is this true?"

"I don't know," Harry said seriously. "But if it is then it's really big, especially for him now that it's all been dug up again."

Ginny looked down at the ground sadly. "You're going to have to go in, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sorry," Harry replied, his voice sincere as he took a step closer to her and held her in his arms. "I wish I didn't have to, I'd love more than anything to be able to just turn a blind eye and stay with you. But I can't. I have to go."

"I understand," Ginny said sadly, her fingers brushing delicately across his chest through the thin material of his shirt. "I know this is what you have to do."

Harry kissed her softly, trying to convey how much he wanted to stay with just his touch as he held her close. "I'll make up for this," he promised as he pulled back. "I'll take some more time off and I'll make you forget this ever happened."

"Big words there Harry," Ginny said, a smile working its way back onto her face. "Go. You need to get to work."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked again, knowing the answer but just wishing to delay the moment he had to leave.

"Yes, I'm sure," Ginny nodded. "You go help him. I know you'll be able to work this all out." She pulled him close, her lips grazing across his as she whispered, "I'll be waiting." She gave him a quick peck on the nose before pulling back, encouraging him to do the same.

"I'll see you soon," Harry promised as he walked inside, leaving Ginny outside with Mrs Peterson, the sadness Ginny felt starting to show on her face as she watched him disappear from view.

"Are you alright, dear?" Mrs Peterson asked worriedly, not entirely sure what had happened to cause such a change in the tone of the conversation.

"Yeah, yeah," Ginny nodded, doing her best to smile at the older woman but not able to fully hide her emotions. "Harry just has to go back into work right now, there's been a bit of an emergency."

"Oh dear," Mrs Peterson said, a frown crossing her brow. "I hope it isn't anything too serious. What happened?"

Slowly Ginny handed over the issue of the Daily Prophet in her hand, feeling slightly sick to look at it as she passed it over. Mrs Peterson quickly fished out her glasses from her handbag and put them on again, squinting down at the article before her. On the front page, emblazoned across the top in big black letters read the headline, 'Diggory Drink Dilemma - Senior Ministry Official Relapses'.

Mrs Peterson didn't know much about politics, and in particular didn't know who Diggory was, but she did recognise the sadness in the young girl before her.

"There, there," she said comfortingly. "Things will be alright."

As she finished saying that Harry appeared back at the door, now dressed in a suit as he threw his cloak over his shoulders. Quickly giving Ginny a kiss goodbye, Harry hurried down the stairs, disappearing from sight as he exited the building.

"He'll be back, Ginny," Mrs Peterson told the young girl. "He loves you, he won't break his promise."

"I know," Ginny said sadly, still looking after where Harry had left. "I just wish we didn't have to reschedule. I've been looking forward to today for so long and after last night…" Ginny sighed. "It was going so… perfect."

Mrs Peterson smiled consolingly at her, knowing how hard it must be to be left behind like this. "I'm sure it was perfect," she agreed. "The two of you are meant to be, dear. Every time I see the two of you together I think that's perfect."

Ginny smiled a genuine smile at the older lady, having really been cheered up by her words. "If you'd like," Ginny offered, gesturing back into her flat. "I'd just finished making breakfast. Would you like to come in for some tea or something?"

Mrs Peterson smiled. "I'd love that, dear," she said, following Ginny inside the flat as she prepared to talk to the younger woman. She knew how difficult separation could be, having been separated from her husband for over twenty years, and she was perfectly willing to help her young friend with her emotional struggle.

"Can I get you some tea?" Ginny asked as Mrs Peterson took a seat on her sofa.

"Yes, thank you, dear," she said, looking around at the well kept flat. "Two sugars if you don't mind."

Ginny bustled around in the kitchen, Mrs Peterson watching her from the open plan living area as she placed tea bags into a couple of porcelain mugs and waited for the kettle to boil. "I've made pancakes if you feel…" Ginny fell silent as her gaze wandered to the seat next to Mrs Peterson.

Following her gaze, Mrs Peterson was surprised to find a piece of black fabric poking out from beneath the cushions of the seat next to her. Turning back, Mrs Peterson found Ginny standing stock still, a mortified expression on her face.

"No need to be prudish," Mrs Peterson said with a chuckle. "I was young once too, you know."

Ginny didn't seem too comforted by the thought as she hurried round and pulled the lacy bra from out of the cushions, trying her best to hide it from her guest all the while. As Ginny hurried over to the bedroom to dispose of the offending item Mrs Peterson stood up and made her why to the kitchen, noting the kettle had reached the boil. Pouring the water into each mug she opened one of the kitchen drawers, knowing it was where the cutlery was kept from her previous visits, fishing out two tea spoons and stirring gently as she waited for Ginny to return.

"There you go, dear," she said, offering Ginny her tea as she arrived back in the kitchen, her intense blush having slightly lessened since she'd last been there.

"Thank you," Ginny said softly, taking a sip before deciding she could remove the tea bag, dropping it into the bin as she made her way to the sofa. With a sigh she sat down, warming her hands on her mug as she stared ahead of her.

"Is there anything you wish to talk about?" Mrs Peterson asked kindly, resuming her seat next to her. "I know talking about things that trouble you can do a lot of good."

"I'm just worried about Amos," Ginny said evasively, looking down at the floor. "He's one of my dad's best friends, I don't want this to happen to him."

"But that's not what's really got you upset this morning," Mrs Peterson suggested, watching Ginny carefully. "Perhaps we should really be talking about Harry."

Ginny turned to look at her. "I'm not mad at him," she told her. "I'm not. I know he wanted to stay just as much as I wanted him to stay."

"But you are mad," Mrs Peterson responded. "You're mad at something Ginny, and if it's not him you need to figure out what it is."

Ginny sighed sadly, putting her mug on the table. "I love him," she said tiredly. "I just hate the fact I can't be with him. His job takes up so much of his time. It's great that Harry has such an important role in our world but sometimes it means I don't get to see him as much as I like. He never gets a day off, never. Even when he does get some time off for us to be together something like this happens."

"Last night was wonderful," she said softly. "It was beautiful, it was magical. It was everything I'd ever hoped a relationship would be since I was just a little girl. I was so looking forward to just spending this morning with him, to just relax and be in his company. I just…"

Ginny stopped herself, briefly wondering if she should continue. "I just wish this story broke tomorrow," she said with a defeated sigh. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"No, dear," Mrs Peterson said comfortingly, putting a soothing hand on her bare knee. "It makes you human, and in love. It's natural to feel this way." Mrs Peterson put her mug down on the table too, before turning in her seat to fully face Ginny.

"I remember when Jack proposed to me I didn't want him to be gone for even a minute," she told the younger girl. "But then, three days later, his brother was involved in a quidditch accident. Jack was distraught that his brother may not survive after the fall and our days of bliss were shattered. Jack was so emotionally distressed I didn't know what to do."

Mrs Peterson took a sip of tea before continuing. "Things changed for me when I went to visit my mother," she told Ginny. "She knew something was wrong and she coaxed it out of me. Eventually I remember saying 'why did this have to happen to me?'."

She shook her head, a wry smile on her face. "My mother put me in my place," she chortled. "She told me, in no uncertain terms, to forget about how I feel and think about how Jack must feel. It's only when I thought of it like that that everything came into perspective."

"So what should I do?" Ginny asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked at the elder woman for guidance, her face a mask of hopelessness.

"Talk to Harry," Mrs Peterson told her firmly. "There's nothing I can say that will make you feel better about this. Talk to him, and you may find that he feels much the same way."

Ginny thought over her words carefully, wondering how she could possibly bring up the subject with him when he had so much he had to deal with right now.

"In the meantime," Mrs Peterson said brightly. "I wouldn't say no to a nice hot cross bun."

Smiling at the older woman's enthusiasm Ginny got to her feet and headed to the kitchen, all the while wondering in the back of her mind just what she was going to do about Harry.

* * *

"Hey Harry," Ron said, his voice chipper as he fell into step beside him in the Ministry atrium. "Listen, I need to tell you about this girl I met last night. She was a yoga instructor or something like that. I don't know, judo, whatever. Anyway, the things she could do with her body-"

Ron was cut off as Harry silently shoved the Daily Prophet into his hands, keeping his expression blank as he strode purposefully through the atrium.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted, startling a poor old woman who'd been standing just in front of him. "What is this?"

Harry said nothing, letting Ron continue through the article as people scampered to get out of their way as they headed to the lifts. Reaching an empty one it took nothing more than a sharp look from Harry to ensure they were left alone.

"How the hell did this happen?" Ron swore, having finally reached the end of the article. "Has this already been distributed?"

"This is Ginny's copy," Harry told him. "This morning thousands of people woke up to the sight of that front page."

"Shit," Ron muttered, rubbing his face as the elevator opened at the top level, allowing the two of them to step out.

"Harry, Ron, have you seen this?" Dennis called out as he fell into step beside them. "This has been all over the Ministry, people have been phoning in to ask questions all morning?"

"We've seen it," Ron assured him as they walked towards their offices, marching forward with purpose.

"Harry, the front page of the Daily Prophet-" Cho started as she saw him approach but Harry waved her off.

"I've got it," he said, throwing his bag into his office as he approached Cho's desk. "Dennis said there have been calls all morning. What are they like? What are we saying?"

"It's mixed," Cho responded, shifting through some files as her phone started ringing again, joining that of several other phones that were going off in the room. "Most of the simple anger phone calls are being screened by security but we're still getting calls from Warlocks of the Wizengamot demanding to know the truth."

Cho gestured for Lizzie to come over and answer her phone while she continued talking to Harry. "I've been keeping track of all those of note who have called," Cho told him. "That's 58, probably 59 Warlocks now," she said, gesturing to where Lizzie was talking on the phone. "On top of that Councillors Lucius Malfoy, Delores Umbridge, Theodore Nott, Susan Bones and Kevin Entwhistle have all called in. Everyone wants to know if there is any truth behind this story."

"Do we know that?" Harry asked as Ron reappeared at his shoulder, Neville too arriving as he spoke.

"If we do it hasn't reached me yet," Cho told them. "I've just been telling them that we're not at liberty to release any information right now and that when we are it shall be through a press conference." Behind her Lizzie put the phone down, only for it to ring again as she answered her own ringing phone. Cho gave Harry an exasperated look as she moved to answer the phone, doing her best to maintain her polite tone.

"I'm going to see the Minister," Harry told her as he walked off, dodging Colin as he hurried back to his phone, his tie only half done up as he'd obviously been rushed in that morning.

"Has anyone seen this?" Hermione asked as she joined them, holding out her own copy of the Daily Prophet.

"I think by this point everyone's seen it," Harry grumbled as Ron showed her Ginny's copy. "Do you know if any of this is true?"

"Michael wrote it," Hermione said with a frustrated sigh. "We've known him for years, he doesn't lie."

"But the article doesn't actually say that Amos is back on the alcohol," Ron butted in. "All that's being said is that a source close to Amos has claimed that he has. Who could possibly be close enough to say that, huh? None of us had any idea and we work with the guy every single day."

"That may be valid but if this is legit then that brings into question who exactly could and would rat him out," Neville pointed out. "And for that matter how none of us noticed before they did." The foursome reached the Minister's outer office and were quickly directed through by Daphne, a phone held up against her ear and a pained look on her face.

"Please tell me this isn't true," Ron said as he marched into the office, holding the paper up in front of him. Reaching the desk he slammed it down, bringing sighs from the Minister and Remus as they paused mid discussion.

"It's not," the Minister assured him.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, leaning against the desk. "Cause if we send Hermione out there and tell the press it's all a lie and then someone snaps Amos with a drink in his hand it's game over."

"Ron, we're sure," Remus assured him. "None of us have seen Amos even in the same room as a drink, let alone having enough to have relapsed. It's a false source."

"How can we be sure?" Neville asked. "If I were a recovering alcoholic I wouldn't tell people that I've started drinking again. What if he genuinely slipped and someone witnessed it happen?"

"If that were the case this story would have been in the news days ago, when Amos was still able to walk around and was physically able to actually have a drink," the Minister pointed out. "For the last three days Amos has been bed bound with the flu. Clearly someone has just decided to cause up a stir."

"Sir, if that were the case it would have to have been someone close to Amos to say so," Hermione pointed out. "This is Michael's story, he wouldn't just take the word of some random guy and claim it as a 'source close to Mr Diggory'."

"Hermione's right, we have to trust Michael's professional integrity on this," Harry agreed. "Either someone close to him has turned their back on him big time or he has actually relapsed."

There was silence as Harry finished speaking, each of the people in the room knowing which option to hope for, yet completely hating both alternatives.

"Are we sure it's the flu?" Hermione asked quietly. "Certain alcohol related problems could give someone the impression it's just the flu, especially if Amos denies he had anything to drink."

"It's the flu," the Minister maintained forcefully.

"I know that's what you want to believe, I want to believe it too," Hermione pushed frustratedly. "But we can't completely rule out the possibility-"

"It's the flu," the Minister repeated. "Hermione, we've got one of the best healers in Britain attending to him right now. If it weren't the flu, he wouldn't tell us it was."

"What if it's both," Harry suggested. "What if that's the reason he's still been unable to return to work. What if he came in with the flu and now he's simple detoxing."

"That would imply that he's been back on the drinks for quite a long time," Remus pointed out. "Do you really think he could have hidden it from us for that long?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "But if he could hide it from us for a few days whose to say he wouldn't be able to manage for longer than that. It's Amos."

"How did we find out the last time?" Neville asked. "He was drinking heavily for months after Cedric's death, or so I've heard, how did we find out?"

All eyes turned to the Minister as they waited for an answer, none of them having known Amos well back then. The Minister sighed as he saw everyone watching, sitting back into his seat as he started to speak.

"There was a fire at their house," the Minister told them quietly. "It was just Amos inside and he accidentally set fire to a rug, which he tried to put out with some fire-whiskey." There were a couple of winces as everyone imagined the catastrophic results.

"It was the muggle fire rescue service that were first to the scene," the Minister continued. "Amos didn't know who to contact so he gave them our address. They woke me up in the middle of the night and told me of the fire, and warned me that it was possible that Amos had a drinking problem. After a lot of hard work and willpower Amos was able to turn his back on the alcohol."

There was silence in the room as he finished recounting the story, the various members of staff feeling sombre to hear such a private story about their colleague.

"Amos hasn't had a drop of anything even slightly alcoholic since then," the Minister affirmed. "After he was allowed to reenter his home he found a decanter of fire-whiskey that had escaped the blaze and put it in his study to always remind him of the perils of the road he travelled down."

"That bottle of fire-whiskey," Harry asked quietly. "That's not the bottle sitting in his office, is it?"

"Yes," the Minister confirmed. "It is, and it has remained, full for the entirety of the time he has held the office."

"Well that's perfect," Ron said. "A perfect indicator one way or the other. If Amos has started to drink again that's bound to be the first place he'd have gone and if it's still full we can be almost certain he's not relapsed."

"Ron, we're not going to go disturbing his office while he's ill," the Minister told him.

"Come on," Ron argued. "He's too sick for us to just ask him. It's not like I'm going to go rummaging through his drawers, I'll just be checking how much fire-whiskey he's got left."

"I said no," the Minister repeated loudly, silencing Ron's argument as he gave his son a firm stare. "We are not going to invade his privacy. When he is well enough we will ask him directly."

"Until then?" Ron questioned, slightly chastened by the Minister's firm words.

"Until then we talk to Michael and find out who his source is," the Minister ordered. "We'll be able to get a better idea of the truth once we've had a look at his source. Other than that it'll be business as usual."

"What do I tell the press until then?" Hermione asked.

"Tell them we're looking into it," the Minister told her. "Don't take any questions until we are able to release our official line. In the meantime we should throw something else in for you to talk about, something reasonably big so we can try and distract attention from the story."

"More on the goblin council?" Neville suggested. "You could just have me answer more of their questions, I'm sure they have more still to ask."

"They've already got enough," Ron said with a frown. "You'll just end up getting questions about Amos's role in negotiations."

"Then what else can we go with?" Neville asked. "Nothing that big has really happened around here. We don't have a big story we've been holding back, have we?"

"The New Year's Ball," Remus said suddenly. "You could announce that we're inviting goblins and centaurs this year, it's bound to generate interest."

"Yeah," Hermione said softly, tapping her finger against her arm thoughtfully. "A big announcement, a grand show of unification between the races that has never before been achieved, or even attempted. It's bound to generate some questions at least."

"Alright, go with that," the Minster said with a nod. "Is there anything else?"

"Actually, there is one thing," Hermione said timidly, bringing the attention of everyone in the room. "I don't mean to make life difficult or anything but I'm just not sure I can talk to Michael about this."

"You having a fight?" the Minister asked.

"No, things are going well," Hermione replied quickly, biting her lip. "The thing is, I'm not sure I can be tough on him like I used to be. I just don't think I'll be able to get anything." She glanced miserably at her colleagues. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," the Minister said, reaching over to pat her arm in understanding. "We'll get someone else to talk to Michael."

"I'll do it," Harry offered. "I haven't got any meetings planned for this morning so I'm going to be free."

"You'll do this for me?" Hermione asked gratefully, painfully aware of the fact he'd been dragged in from his anniversary preparations for this.

"Of course I will," Harry assured her. "Just get Michael to come by your office in twenty minutes and I'll have a little talk with him."

"Great, so that's everything organised," the Minister said, clapping his hands together in a clear dismissal, leading to his staff leaving the room. "Harry, could you stay back a moment?" Harry paused at the doorway, stepping aside to let his colleagues pass as he waited patiently for the Minister to speak again.

"Thank you," the Minister said. "I know it must have been incredibly difficult to come in after hearing the news, it's really appreciated. If there is anything we can do to make up for the inconvenience we will do it."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, once again amazed by the Minister's capacity for compassion even in his situation. "I'm happy to come in when I need to, though. You know I'll always do my best for the Ministry."

"I know," the Minister replied seriously. "And again, I thank you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, bowing out of the room as he continued back to his office.

* * *

"Good morning, could I have your attention please," Hermione asked as she reached the platform at the front of the press room, everyone sitting before her immediately rising to their feet to ask her questions.

"Everyone, please, settle down," Hermione said loudly as the reporters continued to rabble in front of her. "I've got an announcement that I'd like to make which will be followed by an opportunity to ask me about the announcement if you so wish."

The crowd of reporters started to settle down, each of them eventually taking their seats again as they prepared to listen to her announcement. Mentally preparing herself for the unfavourable reaction she knew she was going to receive, well aware of what the reporters were expecting her to say, Hermione spoke again.

"I would like to formally announce that the guest list for the Ministry New Year's Ball has been finalised," Hermione announced, reporters immediately trying to interrupt her as she took them away from the issue they wanted. "It has been decided that, due to our most recent work with their representatives, there will be both goblins and centaurs invited to the event."

While the level of volume in the room didn't diminish the tone of the questions certainly changed. "Donald," Hermione called out, prompting the man to ask his question.

"Hermione, when you say there will be goblins and centaurs attending who exactly will that be?" Donald queried.

"Well, for a start I am only announcing the fact that we are inviting them," Hermione pointed out. "Whether they choose to accept or reject our invitation is entirely up to them. I don't have names for you, I'm afraid, but I do believe that the goblins involved in the negotiations for our new finance council we signed off on yesterday will be invited, as will the Head of the Goblin Council, Ragnock, and the Chief of the Centaur herd living on the grounds of Hogwarts, Magorian."

"Is there any reason to believe that they will not wish to attend?" Sophie asked from the crowd.

"Not that we know of, talks with both races have been productive in bringing together our societies," Hermione told them. "However, just like everyone else invited they have the right to decline if they so choose to and we would not resent them for doing so if they felt they would rather not join the celebration."

"Hermione, what news have you heard about Amos Diggory's alleged drinking problem?" Annabelle asked from the crowd, quickly silencing the other reporters who were waiting eagerly for a response.

"We are aware of the article in question and we are looking into the accusations," Hermione assured them. "At this time the Ministry would like to say no more on the matter until we ourselves are fully informed of what is going on."

"That will be all for now, I'll see you all at our next briefing," Hermione said, picking up her files and leaving the podium despite the multitude of last minute questions coming from the crowd. Giving a discrete nod to Demelza, Hermione exited the press room quietly as the reporters started to pack up their things.

"Michael, could you join us in Hermione's office?" Demelza asked quietly as she reached his seat. Michael nodded, having expected the call from the moment he'd decided to publish the story. Gathering his stuff together he left the press room promptly, leaving behind his fellow reporters as he made his way to Hermione's office.

"Hey, I know you're going to be mad but…," he said as he strode in, only noticing too late that the person behind the desk was not his girlfriend. "You're not Hermione," he said obviously, pointing a questioning finger at the man's chest.

"No, I'm not," Harry agreed from his place behind Hermione's desk. "Close the door and take a seat." Michael did so, slightly concerned by the change in personnel he'd been tricked into.

"Why are you here?" Michael asked as he sat down across from Harry, the weirdness of the situation continuing to gnaw at him.

"Hermione believes that her relationship with you would prevent her from properly doing her job," Harry told him simply. "I disagree but nevertheless I'll be talking to you on her behalf. I assume you know why you were summoned."

"My article," Michael confirmed. "I knew it would ruffle some feathers and you know that I wouldn't have gone through with it had I not believed it were true."

"It does not matter whether you believe it to be true or not," Harry said. "What matters is whether it is true, and if we find it isn't we'll be asking for a formal apology."

"If I found it weren't true I'd be more than happy to give you one," Michael responded honestly. "But as I said, I don't believe I'll need to."

Harry scrutinised him for a second before changing tack. "That quote you got from Hermione?" Harry asked, the article sitting in front of him. "You got it from the press conference yesterday afternoon. Did you already know by that point you were going to be running this story?"

"Yes, I did," Michael admitted.

"So you deliberately set Hermione up to be featured in your article to gain credibility," Harry shot back.

"I accurately quoted Hermione," Michael argued back. "I didn't make her seem as though she was saying anything other than what she did."

"You made it seem like she was trying to cover for Amos's absence," Harry argued back. "You set her up so that the Ministry wouldn't be able to later deny that Amos has been under our close eye this whole time."

"Yes, I did," Michael argued back. "And you know what, that's good journalism. I got my hands on a story, I got information, good, solid information on what was going on and I published it without casting any aspersions beyond what I'd been told by my source. And you know that. You aren't annoyed that I asked Hermione about Amos before running the story. You just want to know my source."

Harry made a small gesture to Michael, signalling for him to continue as they got to the heart of the matter.

"I'm not going to tell you who it is," Michael denied. "They came to me in the confidence that I would keep their name off the paper and I'm not about to violate that trust."

"Michael," Harry said, leaning forward earnestly. "Michael, I know you're a good guy, and that you're a good journalist. We really appreciate all the help you've given us over the past few years."

"Thank you Harry," Michael replied. "But just because I'm a good guy and good at my job doesn't mean I should tell you who my source is. In fact, it tells me the opposite."

"Come on, Michael, help us out a bit," Harry pleaded. "We only want to get to the bottom of this and we need to talk to your source. I know you wouldn't publish this if you weren't confident in the validity of your source so please, tell me who it was."

Michael sighed. "You've just said it," he replied quietly. "You've just said all you need to know. I wouldn't trust just anybody. My source needed no hard evidence to convince me, no photos, no memories, nothing." Michael gave Harry a meaningful look. "This was someone that, when they tell you Amos has problems, you believe it. Work it out, you don't need me to give you their name."

Harry nodded softly, thinking over his words. "Thanks Michael," he said softly, his attention unfocused as he continued to whir through names in his head.

"I'm sorry I had to be the one to do this," Michael said sadly, standing up from his seat. "I like Amos, but this is my job. And if it turns out that I'm wrong I'll come by his office and apologise in person. But if I'm right, and I am, Amos needs help."

Harry watched as Michael exited the office, his mind still spinning with all the clues Michael had left behind as he wondered just who could have been his source.

"Have you got them?" Hermione asked as she entered the office, Demelza having alerted her that Michael had left.

Harry shook his head slowly. "Michael left me some clues," he said absently, before rising to his feet. "I need to talk to the Minister." He strode swiftly out of the room, not pausing for even a second to allow Hermione to reply as he made his way towards the Minister's office.

"Is he in?" Harry asked as he approached Daphne's desk.

"Yes, I'll go see if he's available," Daphne replied, getting up from her seat and walking into the office. She was gone for about a minute before she returned. "You can go in now."

Harry nodded his thanks as he walked past her, entering the office to find the Minister and Remus standing by the desk. "I've just finished speaking with Michael, sir," Harry announced as he walked towards them.

"And?" the Minister asked, taking note of his demeanour. "I'm guessing he wasn't willing to give you a name?"

"No, sir," Harry replied, his tone disappointed. "But he did give me a few hints. He said that the person he spoke to was someone really close to Amos, personally, I'm guessing."

The Minister nodded thoughtfully, a small grimace crossing his features as he realised his suspicions had grown ever more likely. "Thank you, Harry," the Minister said, moving to sit down behind his desk.

"Do you have any idea who the source is?" Harry asked earnestly.

"I do," the Minister assured him. "And I will meet her myself when she gets into the Ministry." He did not elaborate any further. "Your schedule for this morning, Harry," he started up again. "It's free, right?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded.

"Would you mind helping Neville out a bit?" the Minister asked. "He's been having to cover for Amos while he's been ill and Remus just brought it to my attention that it's really starting to wear him down."

"Of course, sir," Harry replied. "Anything else?"

"Not for now," the Minister said, his voice heavy. "But after I meet with Michael's source I'm going to call everyone together again to decide what we're going to say to the public. Hopefully we'll be able to arrange this before Hermione has to be in the press room again. But for now, business as usual."

"Yes sir," Harry said, turning and walking out of the room at the dismissal, leaving the two older men alone.

"You think it's her?" Remus asked quietly, turning to look at the Minister.

"Yeah," the Minister replied sadly.

"If it is it will kill him," Remus pointed out. "I know it would kill me."

"And me," the Minister agreed. "But Amos is tough, he has a better chance than most to get through this." The two men stayed in silence as they finished speaking, neither of them needing to put into words what they were thinking.

"There's been a provisional education application submitted to Amos' office," Remus informed the Minister. "I'll get Neville to pass it on to me." He paused as he made to leave the room. "Good luck, Minister."

* * *

The woman waiting in the Barnet Room was tall and thin, her grey hair showing little glimpses of the dark shade it used to be. She held herself upright with a delicate poise, just another gift she'd received from her pureblood father before his unfortunate passing.

Caroline was a woman who was accustomed to some of the finer things in life, having never wanted for money. Her father came from a very wealthy family, money which she was quick to inherit after his death. On top of that she'd married a pureblood herself, not one with a great family fortune behind him but one with fantastic career prospects at the time and one who had only gained prestige as the years wore on.

Yet for all the pleasures she'd lived her life with Caroline was not unaware, nor uncaring, of those who did not have her advantages in life. She didn't work herself, and therefore had taken to spending much of her time volunteering at orphanages and children's hospitals, taking a great amount of pleasure in helping others in a way she'd only ever been able to get close to experiencing through NEWT Care of Magical Creatures class at Hogwarts.

One of the many solid oak doors leading into the room opened, prompting Caroline to turn to see who had entered. "Minister," she said politely, her usual response to the man before her dulled by the occasion.

"Caroline," the Minister replied shortly, closing the door behind him, blocking off the sounds of the Ministry at work. "I'm glad you were able to make the time to come in."

Caroline gave a weak smile. "When the Minister of Magic calls for you you don't keep him waiting," she replied, her voice light.

"No, you don't," the Minister agreed, his voice hard as he looked at the woman before him. "I'm pretty confident you know why you are here."

"I believe I do," Caroline answered, her own voice losing any of its warmth as the last hopes for an amicable conversation went out the window.

"It took me longer than it should have done," the Minister admitted, pulling a copy of the Daily Prophet from within his robes and scanning the front page. "I would recognise your writing style anywhere, although calling him Mr Diggory did throw me off."

"I assure you, it was not because I wanted to hide from you the fact that I gave this quote," Caroline said fervently. "I just thought if the public were to suspect the same thing it would be far more damaging for both him and the Ministry."

"Then why give the quote at all," the Minister said angrily, throwing the newspaper down on the table. "If you were so concerned about this being damaging for him then why sell it to the press. For Merlin's sake Caroline, he's your husband, why did you do this?"

Caroline stayed silent for a while, simply watching the Minister's chest rise and fall angrily as he waited for her response. "I did not sell this to the press," she said, her voice tight with a mixture of sadness and anger. "I did this for his own good."

"For his own good," the Minister repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "How is this for his own good? You know there will be people calling for his head once we confirm the story is true. People were already worried about him being a former alcoholic and now you tell them that they were right, that we shouldn't have trusted him."

"I am not saying that," Caroline said adamantly. "Everything I've said is quoted in that article. And it is for his own good. Were you even aware that he'd gone back to the booze? I don't think you were. I only suspected until a few days ago, when I visited his office and saw his fire-whiskey."

"How is this good for him?" the Minister asked, his voice slightly calmer as he acknowledged the truth behind her point. "You think now that people know he's drinking that he'll get better?"

"No, I don't think that," Caroline said softly. "I think now that people know he's drinking people might realise that he needs help. I think now people will be watching for it, so that if he ever slips up again we can stop him before it's too late."

The Minister sighed tiredly as he took a seat, wondering just how things had gone so wrong. "Why didn't you just tell me?" he asked. "I could have helped him."

"Would Amos have accepted that?" Caroline countered. "We both know how stubborn he is. He wouldn't have accepted help until it was too late. This is the only way I could think of making sure he gets the help he needs."

The Minister looked up at her sadly. "He's not going to trust you," he told her. "Not after this."

Caroline nodded, doing her best to fight back the emotions that rose within her at the Minister's simple words. "I don't trust him," she admitted quietly. "I could have dealt with him relapsing, but it was more than that. He hid it from me for weeks."

"He hid it from everyone," the Minister argued.

"I'm his wife," Caroline argued back. "We promised to be honest and faithful to one another for as long as we both shall live. If Amos had just admitted from the start that this was happening I could take that. But when I confronted him, he denied it."

"You've confronted him?" the Minister asked warily.

"A week ago," she said with a delicate sniff. "I waited until he got home that night, he turned up at two in the morning, claiming he was working late. You could smell the alcohol. I told him to talk to me but he just brushed me off. So I told him that if he wasn't going to be honest with me then what we had was no more than a sham."

"You didn't," the Minister breathed, wide eyed.

"I did," Caroline confirmed. "The next morning I had my lawyer file the divorce papers."

"Oh my god," the Minister whispered, staring at his hands in disbelief. "How did I not know about this? We work next door to each other, we talk all the time."

"That's just Amos," Caroline said sadly. "He's stubborn. He's never been able to show people when he's hurt, not when he was hit by a rogue bludger at the Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw game, or when he fractured his leg in the middle of a duel, or when he lost his son. Our son."

"He never really recovered from that, did he?" the Minister asked softly.

"I thought he had," Caroline admitted. "But I was blind. I was so focused on how I was going to get by after Cedric was gone that I never noticed how we didn't seem to talk as much as we used to." Caroline shook her head sadly before making her way to the door, the Minister making no attempt to stop her.

"He needs you, Arthur," she said as she stopped by the door. "He needs his friend. For all the problems we've had over the past thirteen and a half years I've never seen him happier than when he was with you on the campaign trail."

Arthur didn't say anything, he just watched Caroline stand there until she eventually made her exit, leaving him sitting alone in the room, nothing but silence to distract him from his thoughts.

* * *

The Minister walked quietly towards the hospital wing of the Ministry, the halls quite empty now that it was nearing the end of the day. Earlier various reporters had to be escorted away by security as they had camped themselves out around the entrance to the ward, hoping for the chance to snap a picture of Amos while they knew where to catch him.

Upon seeing his approach a security officer opened the door for him, allowing him to step through, before standing sentinel over the entrance. Inside the Minister came across a small reception area, empty but for a receptionist and Healer Chadwick Ramsey, who quickly turned away from his conversation with the girl behind the desk to face the Minister.

"Minister, good to see you," he said politely, shaking his hand as the Minister approached him. "We've been expecting you. Come with me, I'll take you to Mr Diggory's room."

"How is he doing?" the Minister asked as Healer Ramsey led him through the main corridor.

"He's starting to get better," the Healer assured him. "He was able to get out of bed and do some physical exercise earlier so I wouldn't have thought it would be much longer until we can declare him fit to return to work, or not, as the case may be."

"Does he know yet?" the Minister asked.

"His room has a television and we supply copies of the Daily Prophet to our patients once they have reached a certain stage of recovery," Healer Ramsey replied. "He didn't seem to take it too bad, I'd say he was almost expecting it to happen, given his reaction." The Healer stopped outside a door, a small number 19 placed upon the plain surface.

"This is his room," Healer Ramsey said simply. "I'll leave you to it."

The Minister nodded his thanks as Healer Ramsey walked back down the corridor, stopping in on one of the other rooms on his way back. With a deep breath to prepare himself, the Minister pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Amos was looking much better than he had the last time the Minister had visited him yesterday evening. There was more colour to his cheeks as he was propped up into a sitting position, his eyes having been monitoring the TV before the Minister interrupted.

Walking over to the TV, letting the door close behind him, the Minister switched it off, wanting Amos's full attention for what he was about to say. From the looks of it Amos had been planning on doing that anyway, but he simply placed the remote back down on the side table, saying nothing as the Minister approached him and sat by his bed.

"You watched the press conference?" the Minister asked, breaking the silence between them. Amos simply nodded. "You know this is something you have to do."

"I know," Amos said quietly, his voice slightly cracked from lack of use. "It's what the public need you to do. You can't be seen as doing nothing when your Chief of Staff is an alcoholic."

"It's not just for the public," the Minister said. "It's for you. Last time I thought we'd done enough, but now I see we just papered over the cracks. You need help."

Amos said nothing, although it was obvious he didn't agree. "Who's going to take over my job while I'm in therapy?" he asked, knowing Neville could not handle covering for him for such a long time.

"Remus will be Acting Chief of Staff," the Minister replied. "Parvati will cover his duties for the time being." Amos nodded in agreement, confident in Remus's ability to do his job. "I talked to Caroline."

Amos started slightly, turning back to look at the Minister, not comfortable with the knowing look in his eye. "And what did she say?" Amos asked quietly, preparing himself for the worst.

"She told me how she confronted you, and how she filed for divorce," the Minister said quietly. "She also told me that she was the one to talk to Michael."

Amos nodded slowly, this time in reluctant acceptance. "I thought she would do something like this," he said quietly. "I just wished I'd handled it better when she'd confronted me. I could have stopped this whole thing from happening."

"Maybe it's better that it did get out in the open," the Minister suggested.

"It's harmful for the Ministry that this got out," Amos argued. "Opinion polls are going to tank, we'll have even more difficulty trying to push through our agenda on inter-species cooperation and our proposed muggle and wizarding studies classes for Hogwarts."

The Minister sighed. "Oh Amos," he said, shaking his head. "Always thinking about work, never about yourself. I don't care if the public rise up against me, I just care that you get the help you need. My job security as Minister is much less important to me than your health and happiness."

"It shouldn't be," Amos breathed back. "You are the Minister for Magic. This country comes first and the only way you can help it is by keeping your job."

"If I remember correctly I wouldn't have this job had you not convinced me to run for it," the Minister pointed out. "All those years ago, when you first suggested I run for the Wizengamot, you set me on my path and stood by me the entire way. Let me stand by you now."

The Minister stood up, slowly making his way to the door. "I've called in a psychiatrist to help you," the Minister told Amos, his voice carrying more authority. "Raymond Frank is supposedly a miracle worker, I think that's just what you need right now. See you tomorrow, Amos."

The Minister left at that, closing the door behind him before Amos had the chance to reply. Lying in his bed, Amos wondered just what was going to happen when he got out. Was he going to go through years of therapy to get over this? Was he ever going to be able to return to his job? The one thing he did know, though, was that nothing was certain. Anything could happen.

* * *

"Hey Hermione," Michael said with a smile, walking fully into her office to check that it was in fact her sitting behind the desk. "I saw you seemed a little flushed at the last press conference, so I thought I'd come see if I could help."

"That's sweet," Hermione said with a strained smile, a slight twitch in her forehead as she struggled to concentrate on the paper before her. "And thank you for weighing in with the questions about the New Year Ball, I really needed the break."

Michael shrugged. "It wasn't like any of the other questions were finding out anything new," he replied. "You'd already told us everything you knew, you deserved a break."

"Well, either way, thank you for doing it," Hermione continued. "Today has been a bit hectic and I'm still not entirely sure what's going on at the moment."

Michael nodded in understanding, taking the seat across from her as Hermione turned back to her work. "Funny thing," Michael said suddenly, catching Hermione's attention. "Last time I was sitting here it was Harry sitting across from me. I thought it odd at the time and I'm just remembering it now."

Hermione sighed. "I had Harry talk to you because I didn't think I'd be able to do my job given my relationship with you," she explained.

"Harry disagrees with that," Michael told her.

"Well Harry is wrong," Hermione said sharply, before sighing in defeat, slumping in her chair as she started to wonder why it was so difficult. "I can't work with you," she told him. "I've tried and no matter how much I try to maintain my professional persona it just doesn't work."

"Hermione, what are you saying?" Michael asked, his voice nervous as he sensed where the conversation was going.

"Michael," Hermione spoke, her eyes starting to tear up slightly as she though about what she was about to say. "It's not working. I'm sorry, but I can't go out with you, not while you're a reporter and I'm the Press Secretary. I'm sorry."

Michael looked a bit lost at her words, all thoughts of a reply evaporating into thin air as he desperately clutched at any argument that might convince her otherwise. In the end he found none. "If," he started, his voice catching in his throat. "If that's the way you feel," he tried again, forcing himself to speak the words he knew he must say. "Then okay, that's… that's your choice."

Michael sat there for a minute, feeling as though there was more to say but not knowing what that was. Eventually he looked up at Hermione, catching her gaze as he looked into her watery brown eyes.

"I've got to go," he said, standing up suddenly and keeping his gaze focused away from Hermione. "I've got to get back to work," he continued, rubbing at his face in a subtle attempt to clear the tears from his eyes.

"Bye, Hermione," he said, starting to move towards the door. "I don't… I don't think I'll be able to come to your next press conference. I'm sorry."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip painfully hard to stop herself from calling him back. He eventually left, finally being able to pull himself away as he walked resolutely out the door. Seconds after Michael had left, Demelza appeared in the doorway, looking worried.

"Hermione, is everything alright?" she asked, clearly concerned for her wellbeing.

Hermione nodded, even though everything in her body told her the opposite, before speaking. "Yes, I'm fine, thank you, Demelza," she said, her voice oddly high pitched as she spoke. "If you wouldn't mind stepping outside for a sec, and close the door behind you, please."

"Of course," Demelza said quietly, backing out of the room and pulling the door shut as she went. It was only then that Hermione let the tears flow from her eyes, the sorrow gushing out as she sat alone in her office, where no one could witness her pain.

* * *

"Hey Ginny, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, moving forward to embrace her as he reentered his office.

"I just wanted to see you," Ginny said softly, nuzzling into his neck as he held her. "How are things going with Amos?"

Harry sighed. "Not good, I'm afraid," he said softly. "We were able to find out who the source was."

"And?" Ginny asked expectantly.

"His wife," Harry replied, bringing a gasp from Ginny. "His soon to be ex-wife I expect. She claims that she remembers how bad it was when Cedric died all those years ago and she didn't want to see Amos go through it all again. So she made sure everyone knew."

"That's awful," Ginny whispered. "How is he taking this?"

"Don't know," Harry responded. "He still hasn't got over the flu yet so no one has had a chance to speak with him." Harry studied her face for a moment. "Are you okay, you look down?"

"So do you," Ginny pointed out.

"So does everyone around here," Harry countered, now sure there was something more to it. "What's wrong? You're not your usual self."

Ginny sighed sadly, resting her head against his chest. "It's difficult," she said eventually, talking into his shirt. "I know what I want to say but I don't want it to sound like I'm blaming you, because I'm not."

"I'll take that into consideration," Harry said, leading Ginny gently to the sofa and sitting them down on it. "Just tell me, I promise I'll hear you out without taking offence."

Ginny nodded, encouraged by his words but nevertheless still nervous. "I'm just… I just wish you hadn't had to leave this morning," she said sadly. "I was really looking forward to today and now it's just been awful."

"And I know it's not your fault," she said quickly as Harry made to speak. "I know you had to come in. But sometimes… I don't know, I feel like I miss you, even when I know you are just at work. So often I'm sitting alone in my flat and it takes all my energy not to come in and see you. And I know you wouldn't leave me unless you really had to and I know that when you work late it's because you have work to do but sometimes… sometimes it's hard to remember that when all I want to do is be with you."

"Ginny," Harry said softly, cupping her face with his hand to make her look at him. "I understand how you feel," he told her. "Completely. I know because when I'm stuck at work late all I can think about is how I'm not able to spend the time with you instead. Every time I have to cancel on you or rearrange a date I just feel so sick, so disgusted that I have to treat you like this."

"It's not your fault," Ginny told him. "I only told you this because I needed to get it off my chest. I don't want you getting worried over this because of me."

"But I'm already worried over this," Harry replied. "I'm worried that I can't even stay away from work for our anniversary. And it is my fault, partially at least. I can do better."

"Harry, I don't want you overworking yourself just for me," Ginny said. "I know how difficult dealing with all this is."

"I can do better," Harry promised. "I don't have to work late as often, I've got a deputy for a reason. Actually, I've got an idea." Harry turned to face the door. "Cho!"

"Yes, Harry," Cho responded, quickly arriving in his office door.

"Right, can you get Dennis in here as soon as he's available?" Harry asked.

"Can I tell him why?" Cho asked in response.

"Yes," Harry said. "I want to get him up to date on everything so he can take my meetings tomorrow."

Cho raised an eyebrow. "All of your meetings?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Harry replied. "All of them." He turned to face Ginny, seeing the surprised look upon her face. "I'm taking tomorrow off."

Cho blinked in surprise as she looked at her boss, noticing his attention had long left her. Without another word Cho left the office, going off to find Dennis and leaving the couple alone in the office.

"You're taking the day off?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

Harry nodded. "I was hoping perhaps we could spend the day together," he suggested. "That is if you don't have any other plans." A smile broke out upon Ginny's face as he spoke, wiping out her shock as she threw herself into his arms, kissing him for all she was worth.

"So I take that as a yes," Harry said breathlessly as Ginny finished her assault on his lips. "I'll come round to your's later tonight?"

"I won't be back until midnight," she told him. "Luke has a date so I'm covering his potion," Ginny added to the questioning look on his face.

"Alright then," Harry said with a smile. "I'll see you there."

Ginny returned his smile as she bounced out of her seat, turning in the doorway to blow him a kiss as she skipped off down the corridor, Harry smiling along after her. For several minutes Harry just sat there, basking in the glow of happiness that surrounded him as he eagerly anticipated the next day. He was brought back to the present by a sharp knock on his door.

"Harry, you wanted to see me?" Dennis asked as he stood there, his hair messed up from a day of constantly running his hands through it.

"Yes, Dennis, have a seat," Harry said, taking his place behind his desk and facing Dennis with a smile. "What I have to tell you now will make you hate me," he promised. "But, I'm your boss, so deal with it."

* * *

Ron sighed as he dropped the piece of parchment back onto his desk, rubbing at his eyes to try and clear away the black dots that were threatening to obscure his vision. Picking up the parchment again and reading from where he left off, Ron gave it up as a bad job, his eyes not being able to focus on the dark letters scrolled across the page.

Glancing at the clock on his desk, Ron decided it was time to call it a day. Pushing around some files on his desk into something that vaguely resembled a set of separate piles, Ron got to his feet, swishing his cloak over his shoulders as he stuffed a few papers in his bag, knowing he'd inevitably have to read over them before coming in the next day.

"Hey, Ron, is that you heading off?" Ron looked up to see Hermione at the door, standing as she always did with a few papers gathered in her arms.

"Yeah," Ron replied tiredly. "I don't think I can concentrate for another second on anything to do with work."

"You heading to a club again?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Ron shook his head. "Not tonight," he said. "I literally don't have the energy. I think I'll just go home and fall asleep in front of the telly. What were your plans?"

"Well," Hermione said, mulling over her words carefully. "I was just wondering-" She was cut off by a knock on the door. Hermione turned to see who it was, completely missing the shocked expression on Ron's face as he saw who was at the door.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Josephine Fairchild said softly, glancing nervously between Ron and Hermione as she stood in the doorway. "I was just wondering if you're still up for having that drink?"

Hermione turned back around in shock, completely taken aback by the sudden turn of events.

"Josephine," Ron said softly, making his way round his desk. "Of course, I'd love that. Are you free just now? I was just leaving."

Josephine nodded, a genuine smile spreading across her face as Hermione started to put the dots together in her head.

"Alright, let's go," Ron said, grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder. "Oh, Hermione, of course, you had something you wanted to talk to me about?"

Hermione snapped out of her stupor at his question, instead donning a polite smile as she answered him. "Oh, no, it's just work stuff," she lied smoothly. "It'll keep until tomorrow. Have fun you two."

Ron smiled at her, wishing her a goodnight as he left, Josephine giving her a polite nod as she walked with him out of the office. Suddenly on her own, Hermione's warm facade disappeared as she sat down tiredly in the seat by Ron's desk, holding her head wearily in her hands.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Harry asked as he spotted her, just passing by Ron's office door on his own way out of the Ministry.

"Yeah, yes, I'm fine," Hermione answered, her tone indicating the exact opposite. "It's just been a bit of a rough day."

"I'll say," Harry agreed. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, walking into Ron's office and taking a seat next to her, dropping his bag at his feet. "I'm set just to go home to an empty flat so if you want to speak with someone I'm here for you."

Hermione looked up at him desperately, seeing the sincerity in his gaze as he watched her with worry. "Okay," she whispered thickly. "But not here, can we go somewhere else?"

"Where do you want to go?" Harry asked. "My flat is empty."

Hermione shook her head. "No, not there," she told him. "Do you remember that club we used to go to all the time after we graduated Hogwarts?" Harry nodded. "Is it still open?" Harry nodded again.

"Alright, we'll go there," Harry promised her. "We'll get a couple of drinks and you'll tell me what the matter is. Now, why don't you get your stuff and meet me back here."

Hermione nodded wordlessly to his suggestion, getting to her feet and walking lifelessly out of the office. Harry looked after her worriedly, knowing that it was far more than simply a bad day in the press room that could bring that reaction out of his old friend.

* * *

"Hermione, Hermione wake up." Hermione's eyes fluttered open groggily, an unwilling groan issuing from her mouth as her newfound headache made itself known to her. "Hermione, I know you're in a bad situation right now but you've got to get up. Now."

At the almost commanding tone in the speaker's voice Hermione pulled herself laboriously into a more upright position, noticing both that she had been lying on a sofa of some kind and, as the covers that were placed over her started to slip down, that she was completely naked.

"Hermione," Ginny's face swum in her field of vision, slowly getting clearer as Hermione's eyes started to regain their focus. "Good morning, I brought you some breakfast."

Hermione finally was able to sit up straight as the smell of bacon and eggs reached her nostrils, starting to wake her up more completely than any potion had ever managed. "I also whipped up a batch of hangover cure," Ginny added, placing the vial of green liquid on the food tray she had set on Hermione's lap. "Harry said you'd be needing it."

Hermione blinked again before she started to eat the food before her, downing the hangover cure between mouthfuls as she did her best to go through the meal with one hand, the other being required to hold the covers up.

"I've just got one question." Hermione said quietly, her head still slightly tender as the hangover cure continued to work its magic. "Why am I naked? I didn't do this myself, did I?"

Ginny chuckled. "No, that was me," she told her. "Harry isn't quite aware of how uncomfortable it is in the morning for a woman to wake up having slept in her day clothes."

"Oh, you saw me drunk?" Hermione whispered, mortified as she covered her face with her available hand.

"Well, to be honest you were pretty much out of it by the time I came home," Ginny informed her, an amused glint in her eye.

"Still, I wish you hadn't had to see me like this," Hermione muttered. "Only Harry and Ron have ever had to deal with me the morning after a night out and I was hoping it would stay like that. I never could hold my drink."

"Hey, don't worry about that," Ginny said encouragingly. "I completely understand. Harry told me everything."

Hermione nodded slowly before Ginny's words caught up with her. "What did Harry tell you?" Hermione asked warily.

"Everything," Ginny repeated.

"And what exactly is everything?" Hermione continued. "I don't remember much of what happened last night, what did I tell him?"

Ginny took a deep breath as she prepared to go through everything Harry told her. "Well, you told him how you and Michael broke up," Ginny said. "So sorry to hear about that, by the way." Hermione nodded for her to keep going, not caring that she'd revealed that piece of information.

"Then you told him how you wished you could have a relationship like the one he has with me," Ginny continued, flashing Hermione a warm smile. "And then you told him all about your feelings for my brother."

Hermione's mouth fell open, her worst fears realised as she stared in consternation at a rather calm and composed looking Ginny. "I told him how I feel about Ron?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Ron?" Ginny said in surprise. "I thought you were talking about Percy." At Hermione's wide eyed expression Ginny couldn't help but burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I know I shouldn't be joking about this but I just couldn't help it. Yes, I know you like Ron."

"Oh god," Hermione whispered to herself, the rest of her breakfast completely forgotten, prompting Ginny to remove it from her lap. "Oh god, oh god, oh god. How am I ever going to be able to face Ron ever again. I can't believe I said that."

"Hermione, relax," Ginny said calmingly, making small shushing gestures. "Hermione, Ron doesn't need to find out if you don't want him to."

"Of course Ron will find out," Hermione said frustratedly. "Harry will tell him. He won't be able to keep this a secret from him."

"Yes, he will," Ginny assured her. "Harry won't tell Ron."

"He told you," Hermione countered.

"Yes, but I tell Ginny everything," Harry said, appearing from the bedroom in the same shirt and trackies he'd worn the previous morning. "Hermione, we've been friends for over seventeen years. I'm not going to betray your confidence."

"And neither will I," Ginny said, placing a comforting hand on her free wrist. "We care about you Hermione, and if you don't want people to know then we'll take your secret to the grave."

Hermione looked desperately from Ginny's eyes to Harry's, desperate to see the sincerity in them. And she did. "Thank you," Hermione said softly. "You're really good friends."

Ginny smiled at her words, patting her wrist as she moved to her feet. "I'm just going to pop into the shower," she announced, kissing Harry as she passed him. "I'll see you later." Harry smiled after her as she wandered over to the bedroom, slipping inside with a saucy wink before closing the door behind her.

With Ginny gone, Harry approached Hermione, sitting on the table facing her. "How are you feeling?" he asked, taking in her pale complexion.

"Desperate," Hermione answered truthfully, causing Harry to laugh. "Why can I never hold my drink? I must have drunk just the same as you and you were perfectly fine."

Harry shrugged. "It's just biology," Harry admitted. "I often wonder how Ron can drink so much without even batting an eye. That guy could drink for England." It was Hermione's turn to chuckle at that. "Do you want to talk about it?" Harry asked carefully, wary of pushing her too far.

"Didn't I do that last night?" Hermione said, her headache starting to pulse up again as she tried to remember the night before.

"Yes, but I think it would be better for you to be able to remember talking about it too," Harry replied, the corner of his lips twitching.

Hermione sighed. "Maybe," she said uncertainly, not really sure what she wanted. "Maybe, I don't know. I think I just need to think this over myself before I say anything more. What time is it?" She asked, checking her wrist before remembering that she was completely naked.

Harry picked her watch up from a pile of folded clothes sitting next to him, clothes Hermione recognised as her own. Taking the watch and twisting her hand so she could properly read off it Hermione swore, causing Harry to look up in surprise.

"I'm going to be late," she panicked, throwing her watch down on the sofa next to her and diving forward to grab her clothes, only just able to keep her blanket from revealing everything as it started to fall down.

"Hermione, Hermione," Harry said, placing a hand on her shoulder as she seemed about to try to dress one handed while simultaneously holding up the covers. "Hermione, calm down for a second so I can get out of the room," Harry told her. "And just… remember to talk to me about this," he made her promise. "Not now, or maybe not tomorrow or the day after, but just, sometime, okay."

Hermione nodded, understanding his desire to help. Slowly she was able to relax her muscles, placing her clothes down next to her as she took a deep breath to calm herself. "I know this is perhaps not the most important thing for me to be concerned about," Hermione said, her voice starting to return back to normal. "But I'm suddenly very conscious of the fact that I'm naked."

Harry laughed as he let go of her arm, standing up as he made his way towards the bedroom door. "I'll get out of here," he promised as he reached the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Wait, tomorrow?" Hermione questioned before Harry could leave. "Where are you going to be today?"

Harry grinned. "I'm taking the day off," he told her, opening the door. "See you tomorrow." Harry left her behind, closing the door securely behind him as he walked into the bedroom. Left with nothing to keep him occupied, Harry moved over to Ginny's chest of drawers, finding on top of the wooden surface the few files he'd brought with him.

Leaning against the chest of drawers, Harry started to read through the files, knowing he would need to be up to date on everything for his work the next day. His attention was only broken as he heard the sound of the front door open and close. Checking the clock resting on the wooden surface, Harry chuckled at just how late Hermione was going to be as he turned back to the files.

"Hey," Ginny said, slipping in and wrapping her arms around him, her slightly damp body pressing gently into his back.

"Hey," Harry replied as he turned in her arms to face her, smiling down at her as he wrapped his own arms around her gorgeous naked body. "Hermione's gone."

Ginny nodded, smiling up at him. "I heard," she said, pressing herself up closer against him. "Happy Anniversary, Harry," she said, moving her face closer to his.

"Happy Anniversary, Ginny," he replied as he made up the distance, catching her lips as his hands started to caress Ginny's soft skin. Dragging him back, Ginny pulled him down onto the bed with her, giggling as she started to divest him of his clothes, all the while sharing affectionate kisses as they basked in the glory of their beautiful day together.


	10. Ball

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley," the smartly dressed man at the door announced formally as the couple stepped inside, arm in arm as they entered the vast and glittering ballroom.

"I wish they wouldn't do that," Harry muttered as they walked further inside, many heads having turned to see them at the sound of the greeter's voice. "There really is no sense of subtlety in the Wizarding world, is there?"

Ginny giggled. "Relax, Harry," she said, poking him playfully in the arm. "He does that for everyone. Besides, in a place like this nobody even cares that much, everyone's a dignitary. Anyway, imagine how hard it must be for the guy at the door to stand there all evening shouting people's names and not being able to join the party."

Harry shrugged at that, admitting that it did sound like a rather tedious job to be stuck with.

"Harry, Ginny," Ron called over to them, grabbing their attention as he led Josephine towards them, the young woman dressed in a beautiful and simplistic gold dress.

"Hey Ron, Josephine," Harry said as they got into hearing range.

"Oh, Josephine, you look fantastic," Ginny gushed, causing the younger girl to blush prettily.

"Thanks Ginny," she said with a small smile. "You look incredible too. I just love your dress, who made it?"

Ginny was about to answer before Harry spoke up, puffing his chest out dramatically. "Ron, absolutely splendid to see you good fellow," Harry said exuberantly, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "I must say, you look absolutely dashing in that suit."

"Thank you, good sir, as do you," Ron replied, quickly catching on to the joke. "Might I inquire over the maker of that fine suit you're wearing? Italian, if I'm not mistaken."

"Indeed," Harry replied, ignoring the exasperated look he was getting from Ginny. "Of course, Italian is always the finest and most in keeping for an event such as this." It was at this point that both he and Ron broke down in laughter, dropping the act they were putting on as their respective dates looked at them with amused yet exasperated looks.

"A little bit of advice," Ginny said to Josephine. "Never let yourself get stuck alone with these two."

"Aww, you don't mean that," Ron pouted, drawing a scowl from his sister that made him quickly rethink his position. To divert any possibility of a fight between the siblings Harry quickly lent in and placed a kiss upon Ginny's cheek, forcing the scowl into an unwilling smile.

"Seriously though," Harry said, turning back to Ron and Josephine. "The two of you look great."

"You too man," Ron said, giving Harry a soft punch to the arm.

"Boys," Ginny said to Josephine in a stage whisper, rolling her eyes and causing Josephine to let out a little giggle. "Come on Josephine, let's go get some champaign, I think I saw a waiter walking round with a tray of glasses."

Ginny quickly led Josephine away through the crowd and soon they were out of sight, the ball room getting more and more full as more of the attendees were ushered through the door.

"You and Josephine look good together," Harry noted, catching Ron's attention. "How are things going with you two?"

"They're going well," Ron nodded confidently. "I mean, she's a wonderful person. She's so nice and sweet, and really understanding. I try not to let my frustrations at work intrude on our dates but when it does she is so good about it and I always seem to end the evening completely stress free."

"I can imagine," Harry said, grinning suggestively at Ron.

"Not that," Ron admonished him. "Well, sometimes that," he corrected himself, a small smile crossing his lips. "But, you know, that's not the important thing about a relationship, is it. I always thought the physical part was so important but now I see that as long as you've got the emotional part the physical part will come on its own."

"It's hardly a surprise this is your first serious relationship," Harry mused. "If you are really serious about a girl then sex is a secondary issue. Although it is nice when your girlfriend is good at that too, like mine is."

"Harry, that's my sister you're talking about," Ron told him, pulling a face at the very idea.

"I know," Harry replied, spotting the girls talking some distance away, champaign glasses held in each hand. "I just wanted to see if I could slip that in without you noticing."

"Right," Ron said warily, glancing over to see Ginny and Josephine making their way back. "Listen, don't tell Ginny what I've said, okay. This is going really well for me and I don't want to mess it up by getting too many people involved."

"Ron, Ron, Ron," Harry said, shaking his head despairingly. "Everything you've told me, Ginny already knows."

"How?" Ron demanded, eyes wide, glaring at Harry accusingly.

"Ron," Harry chuckled. "Why do you think Ginny had Josephine come get drinks with her?"

"Hey, we're back," Ginny announced as she and Josephine reached them, the girls handing their respective dates a glass of champaign. Accepting his glass, Harry kissed Ginny softly on the lips, before pulling away to see Ron's astonished expression relax as Josephine kissed him on the cheek.

"Did you girls have a nice chat?" Harry asked, glancing discretely at Ron as he spoke.

"Oh, you know, girl stuff," Ginny told him, her eyes glittering mischievously. "And what about you two?"

Harry gave her a joking shrug. "Guy stuff," he replied, earning himself a grin from his girlfriend.

"Let's go," Ron said quietly to Josephine, taking hold of her arm and lightly applying pressure. "We're just blurry shapes to them now."

"Are you sure?" Josephine asked worriedly, glancing at the couple and noting that they did seem to be rather oblivious to the world around them. "Shouldn't we tell them we're going?"

Ron shook his head. "Trust me, they've been going out for two years, I've seen this before," Ron warned her. "They could go on like this for hours, better to just leave them to it."

Conceding to his superior knowledge on the subject Josephine allowed Ron to lead her away, the couple wandering aimlessly through the mass of people arm in arm as they watched out for anyone they knew.

"Ron, Josephine, there you are," Hermione said happily, appearing before them in her beautiful silver dress. "How are you?"

"We're good, Hermione," Ron replied, smiling at her. "You look really nice tonight."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Ron," she said. "You look very handsome tonight too. And Josephine," Hermione turned to her, eyeing up her outfit. "That dress is wonderful, and it suits you so well."

"Thank you, Hermione," Josephine said, starting to get used to the compliments but still loving them when they were directed at her. In particular she appreciated them coming from Hermione, the usually bushy haired girl having always been really nice to her since the very first day they'd met.

"Ah, hello there," a big man appeared behind Hermione, his tall stature complimented by incredibly broad shoulders. "Hermione, why don't you introduce me to your friends."

Hermione smiled, although both Ron and Josephine could tell it was a bit forced. "Of course," she said sweetly, her experience as press secretary keeping her voice positive. "Ron, Josephine, this is my date tonight, Cormac McLaggen."

"How'd you do," Cormac said politely, shaking hands with each of them.

"Cormac works in the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures," Hermione continued.

"Senior Undersecretary to the Deputy Head of the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures," Cormac added, puffing himself up proudly at the title.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Anyway, this is Ron Weasley, the Political Strategies Director, and this is his date Josephine Fairchild, who works with the independent wildlife group 'Run Free' campaigning against magical creatures being unfairly kept in captivity."

"Pleasure to meet you," Ron said politely as Josephine smiled at him.

"Fairchild?" Cormac said thoughtfully. "As in Cliff Fairchild, the man who murdered Bellatrix LeStrange?"

Josephine looked down at the ground. "Yes, he's my father," she said quietly.

"Oh," Cormac said dumbly. "Right." He turned to Hermione. "I saw Bertie Filbert back there, why don't I introduce you," he said, glancing with slight concern at Ron's thunderous expression.

"Alright," Hermione said tightly, somehow managing to restrain herself. "I'll be with you in a moment." Cormac grunted before he moved off into the crowd, people parting before him as he approached. As soon as he was out of earshot Hermione turned to Josephine. "I'm so sorry," she said frantically. "I never thought he'd say something like that."

"It's alright, Hermione," Josephine said quietly, waving her off. "It's not your fault, don't worry about it."

"What are you doing with a guy like that?" Ron said loudly, still glaring at the back of Cormac's head. "What an idiot."

"I'm sorry, Ron, I didn't know he was like this," Hermione told him, desperate for him to understand. "I just needed a date for this event and Demelza said she'd heard he was looking for one too." Hermione looked behind her sadly. "Now I see why."

"Ron, it's not her fault," Josephine said quietly, placing a hand gently on his arm. Looking into her eyes Ron seemed physically calmed.

"Sorry," he said quietly, thanking Josephine for her steadying presence. "And sorry to you too, Hermione," he continued. "I know it's not your fault he's such an arse. Just, you know, don't let Demelza set you up with anyone ever again."

Hermione smiled at that, but her good mood was quickly ended as Cormac called for her. Glancing over her shoulder to where Cormac was waiting, Hermione sighed.

"Again, I'm really sorry," she said to Josephine as she walked off towards Cormac, well aware that behind her Ron was no doubt still glaring at her date.

"What a wanker," Ron muttered under his breath. "I can't believe he'd say that to you. Who does he think he is?"

"Senior Undersecretary to the Deputy Head of the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures," Josephine recited cheekily, causing Ron to bristle. "It doesn't matter," she soothed, trying to calm Ron down.

"Doesn't matter," Ron repeated. "Yes, Josephine, it does. That he'd even have the nerve to say such a thing, and at an event like this when you're here as my guest."

"Ron," Josephine said firmly, trying to slow him down mid rant. "Yes, what he did was wrong. But lets not let him ruin the evening. His opinion means nothing to me, yours does."

Ron seemed to visibly deflate as her words got through to him. "You're right," he admitted. "Who cares what he thinks?"

"That's the spirit," Josephine replied, a smile back on her face. "Look, there's Neville, why don't we go say hello?"

"Alright," Ron said, letting the matter go as he took her arm and led her through the crowd, smiling at people he recognised as he went.

* * *

"Hey, there he is," Harry said excitedly as he caught a glimpse of his target through the crowd. "Finally, I thought he'd never turn up. Come with me Ginny, there is someone I want you to meet."

"Who?" Ginny asked, but Harry didn't answer, instead choosing to lead her through the crowd as he tried not to lose sight of his target. Eventually Harry found himself face to face with his friend, a small circle of space having formed around him and his date.

"Griphook, so glad you could make it," Harry said, shaking the goblins hand as he grinned back at him. "I'd like to introduce you to someone," he said, moving to let Ginny step forward, still holding firmly onto her hand. "This is my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley," he introduced, smiling at the slightly surprised Ginny. "Ginny, this is Griphook, a good friend of mine. We've been working together a lot recently on the new finance council."

"Yes, I remember you telling me," Ginny replied, turning to Griphook. "It's very nice to meet you, sir."

Griphook nodded respectfully back. "Likewise," he replied before turning to his date for the evening. "Let me introduce to you my mate, Nexsyl. She has been with me for over thirty-two years now."

"It's a pleasure," Harry said politely.

"Yes, Harry here is the Communications Director for the Ministry," Griphook introduced. "Although when we first met he was just going off to Hogwarts for the first time."

"Yes, that's true," Harry agreed. "I never would have expected that I'd have ever even ended up talking to you again Griphook, but I'm certainly glad that things turned out that way."

As Harry finished speaking it was heard from the door that the announcer welcomed the Minister and his wife to the ball, prompting everyone's attention to turn away from whatever they were doing to see them.

"Excuse me, Harry," Griphook said politely, taking hold of Nexsyl's hand. "I must thank the Minister for his invitation. I hope to see you again before the night is over."

"As do I," Harry replied as Griphook led his mate away and soon they disappeared into the crowd of bodies, the goblins standing far shorter than the other guests. Mere minutes after Griphook had left, Neville appeared, Alea holding onto his arm wearing a beautiful cream coloured dress.

"Hey Harry, Ginny, how are you doing?" Neville asked as he reached them, his face slightly flushed as he smiled widely.

"We're doing great," Harry told him. "We were actually just speaking to Griphook, have you seen him yet?"

"No, we hadn't even heard he'd arrived," Neville replied, glancing around as if he would suddenly just appear. "I heard he was bringing his mate with him."

"Nexsyl," Harry confirmed. "Yes, she's with him. Griphook's just talking with the Minister at the moment, but after that I'm sure he'd love to see you."

"Harry," Ginny said, nudging him in the side, but she was cut off as Ron and Josephine reached them.

"Hey guys, how's everything going?" Ron asked as he smiled at them.

"Great," Harry replied. "Although we were a bit surprised to find you'd left us back there."

Ron shrugged. "When you two get like that there is nothing and no one that'll get your attention again," he said simply.

"Ron," Josephine said quietly. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Ron looked around, puzzled by what she'd said, but Harry and Neville caught on.

"Oh, right, that's what you were going to say, wasn't it?" Harry asked Ginny, a slightly embarrassed smile on his face. "Ginny, this is Alea Reed. Alea, this is my girlfriend Ginny Weasley."

"Oh, and this is my girlfriend Josephine Fairchild," Ron said quickly, trying to cover up for the fact that he'd completely forgotten that they'd never met before.

"Pleasure to meet the two of you," Alea said politely. "I honestly thought the boys were never going to introduce us."

"Yes, well, that's why they need us, isn't it?" Ginny joked. "We need to hang around to keep these guys from hurting themselves too much." Neville seemed rather taken aback by the idea but both Harry and Ron just nodded reluctantly. "Anyway, Alea, you work in the Wizengamot, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Alea told her. "Actually it was on Wizengamot business that I met Neville, although it was Harry I was actually doing business with. What do you do?" She asked, turning to include Josephine in the question.

"I work with 'Run Free'," Josephine told her, getting a nod of recognition. "My dad wanted me to go into sales like he did but my heart just wasn't in it."

"I make potions," Ginny spoke up. "My company are quite small but we're really proud of the quality of our potions. We're starting to grow quite a bit now so hopefully we'll one day be an international supplier."

"That's fantastic," Alea said, really interested by what was being said. "Do you do any exporting or are you just UK based for now?"

"For now, we're just UK," Ginny answered, the two woman getting lost in their own conversation as other conversations sprung up around them.

"I've got to go," Neville said, his expression grim. "My grandmother's here and if I don't spend enough time with her I'll never hear the end of it." Neville shook his head. "And I thought she was bad when we were at school," he muttered as he wandered off.

"Hey, look, the Minister is free," Ron said, pointing to where the Minister had seemed to extricate himself from a conversation with a member of the Wizengamot. "Let's go over and say hi."

"I can't," Josephine whispered, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear their conversation. "He's the Minister for Magic, and he's my boyfriend's dad. I can't talk to him."

"Sure you can," Ron assured her. "He's a very reasonable man. He doesn't have any problem with Harry going out with Ginny." Josephine looked over at Harry questioningly, to which Harry gave her an encouraging nod.

"And what about your mum?" Josephine continued, moving slightly to hide behind Ron as the Minister and his wife stepped closer. "She's not going to like me."

"Sure she will," Ron told her. "Believe me, she'll love you. I tell you, you come with me to talk to them right now and she will send you a box of homemade chocolates at the first excuse she can think of."

"It's true," Harry told her. "When she first met me she sent me Halloween chocolates."

Josephine glanced nervously from Harry to Ron and back again before finally giving a small nod. "Okay," she said quietly, seeming to be surprised by her own daring as she did. "I'll come with you, just don't leave me alone with them."

Ron chuckled. "Of course I won't," he said, giving Josephine a small peck on the cheek. "Harry, you coming?"

"No thanks," Harry said, glancing through the crowd. "I haven't seen Dennis yet so I'm going to try and find him."

"Alright, see you later," Ron replied, waving him off as he went searching for his deputy. Taking Josephine by the arm, Ron confidently led her forward through the crowd, making a bee-line straight for his parents.

"Minister, Mrs Weasley," Ron said respectfully, drawing the tiniest of smiles from his father. "I'd like to thank you for the invitation to this gathering and hope that the year to come is a fruitful one for both yourself and your family."

"And you thought you hadn't taught him any manners," the Minister joked, his wife slapping him on the arm. "The sentiments are returned, Ron," the Minister said, smiling widely as his gaze drifted to Josephine, who seemed like she wanted to be anywhere but where she was at that moment. "Who have we here?"

"Ah, yes," Ron said, turning to Josephine with a smile. "Minister, Mrs Weasley, I would like to introduce my girlfriend and date for the evening, Josephine Fairchild."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir, ma'am," Josephine said quietly, having to fight the strong impulse to give a bow or a curtsy or something.

"Josephine Fairchild," the Minister said thoughtfully, Josephine preparing herself for the inevitable mention of her father. "You work for an animal rights group, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Josephine said quickly, incredibly relieved to find herself mistaken. "I work with 'Run Free' on ensuring magical creatures do not live lives in the captivity of irresponsible owners."

"A noble cause," the Minister said approvingly. "Well, feel free to check out our place any time, all we've got are the chickens. Unless of course they are magical creatures and no one has told us about it."

"No, sir, chickens aren't magical," Josephine said with a small smile.

"Are you sure?" the Minister asked cheerfully. "Because I eat the eggs they lay and my wife has assured me time and again that only a magical being could ever satisfy a Weasley boy's hunger."

"And I stand by that claim," Mrs Weasley said, giving her husband a look to stop talking. "Believe me, Josephine, you'll find out soon enough. That boy next to you is the worst."

"Hey," Ron said indignantly, gaining a look from both his parents. "Okay, fine, it's true, but couldn't you have just let her find that out for herself?"

The Minister chuckled. "Josephine, would you mind if I stole your date for a few minutes?" he asked. "I need to speak to him on Ministry business."

"Of course," Josephine said quickly, knowing better than to stand in his way but looking absolutely terrified at the prospect of being left alone with her boyfriend's mother. The Minister gave her a reassuring smile before leading Ron a distance away, finding a quiet corner to speak where they could still see their respective partners.

"So, Ron, how are you doing?" the Minister asked, regarding his son with interest.

"Em, fine," Ron answered awkwardly, wondering where the Minister was going with his train of thought. "Sorry, sir, didn't you say there was Ministry business you had to talk to me about?"

"I did," the Minister agreed. "And I lied. I just wanted to see how you were doing." The Minister glanced past the crowds to where his wife was speaking with Josephine. "She seems nice," he said, nodding approvingly.

"She is," Ron agreed, following his fathers gaze as he took the opportunity to marvel in his girlfriend's beauty. "By the way, thanks for slipping in that bit about her job," he said gratefully. "She gets a bit insecure about her work so to know that the Minister is aware of her job and supports it is a real boost for her self-esteem."

"That's good," the Minister agreed. "I didn't quite get her job right though, did I? I mean, Harry mentioned to me some time ago of what it was but the details escape me."

"Wait, why were you and Harry talking about Josephine?" Ron asked in confusion, turning to face his father fully.

"Didn't you know?" the Minister said, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Harry and I get together every so often to talk about the rest of you."

"You do?" Ron asked, even more amazed. "Why?"

"Well," the Minister said absently. "He's going to be my son-in-law one day so I thought it would be a good idea to have some bonding sessions of some kind. It's fun."

"You seem really confident that Harry and Ginny are going to get married," Ron mentioned, looking back to the crowd but unable to locate either Harry or Ginny.

"And you think they won't?" the Minister asked with a chuckle. "I bet you twenty galleons that they'll be married by the time I turn 55."

"Dad," Ron said, his confusion only increasing. "You're 58."

The Minister chuckled. "Nothing gets past you, Ron," he said. "How about they get married before I turn 63 then, hmm. Five years."

Ron shrugged. "I'm not sure it'll take five years, they're pretty close already," he said. "How about this. You give me twenty galleons if they are engaged by the time of the next Ministerial election."

The Minister raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's just two and a half years," he said. "You're that confident?"

"I am," Ron nodded, holding out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

The Minister looked at his hand and chuckled. "Alright," he said, shaking Ron's hand. "If they get engaged before May 25, 2011, I'll owe you twenty galleons." Ron smiled as the Minister released his hand and the two of them turned back to observing the room.

"How is it going between the two of you?" the Minister asked suddenly, his gaze again finding where his wife was talking animatedly with Josephine Fairchild. "This is getting pretty serious now. You've been together for over a month."

Ron shrugged. "Things have been going well," he replied. "Josephine's great, she really is. I know you'd like her if you got to know her."

"I'm sure I would too," the Minister said softly, allowing a comfortable silence to fall between them.

"You know Harry asked me that same question," Ron spoke up suddenly, remembering the earlier conversation. "Is this another thing you've been discussing behind my back?"

The Minister chuckled. "Nope, not this time," he said, a smile on his face. "That's just a result of the fact that both me and Harry care about you, and want you to be okay."

"You've never asked about any of my previous relationships," Ron pointed out. "What's new with Josephine?"

"None of your previous relationships lasted this long," the Minister countered.

"That's not true," Ron argued. "There was…" he stopped as he thought for a name, suddenly realising that there were no names to grasp. "Okay, maybe you are right," he admitted, surprised by the fact. "But just because I've never been in a relationship this serious doesn't mean I'll screw it up."

"I know, Ron, I know," the Minister said placatingly. "I agree with you. Your mother was my first serious girlfriend. As was Fleur with Bill and Angelina with George and I am sure Harry with Ginny. It's just in my nature as a father to look out for you. It doesn't mean I don't trust you."

They fell silent again, Ron touched by his father's words more than he was either willing or able to say. "Hey," the Minister said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. "Lets go back to our woman before they do something we'll live to regret."

Ron laughed. "That's another thing," he said, walking with his dad back towards the girls. "I had promised Josephine I wouldn't leave her alone with you."

The Minister looked amused at that. "Well, just a word of advice," he said as they came close to their partners. "Think of something I'd have wanted to talk to you about, fast."

* * *

"Hey Dennis, Lizzie, there you are," Harry greeted as he squeezed through the crowd and approached the young couple. "How are you doing?"

"We're good, Harry," Dennis replied, a true beaming smile on his face as he walked around with an elegantly dressed Elizabeth Durand on his arm.

"We're fantastic," Lizzie gushed, her blonde curls bouncing as she walked. "This time last year I was stuck in my dormitory because I wanted to spend the time studying for my NEWT's. I can't believe I'm here now. All in one year."

"It's amazing the things that can change in a year," Harry said with a smile. "Hey, I bet it's days like this that remind you why you put all the hard work in that last year at Hogwarts."

"Yes," Lizzie agreed. "On the other hand Celestina Warbeck is at the party, and she spent her entire career at Hogwarts campaigning for theatre groups."

"Wait, is Warbeck singing tonight?" Dennis asked. "I heard they had a really big name to perform for the Minister."

"The Minister's wife is a big Celestina Warbeck fan," Harry informed him. "Up until quite recently they never had the money to afford tickets to her concerts so the Minister asked her to perform as a personal favour."

"Aww, that's sweet," Lizzie said with a sigh. "That's true love right there."

"Careful, that's your boss you're talking about," Dennis warned her.

"You're my boss too," Lizzie pointed out. "And I sleep with you."

"Maybe you've had enough to drink," Harry suggested, Dennis taking the opportunity to slip the glass of champaign out of her hand while she was distracted.

"Cho," Lizzie cried out excitedly, beaming out at the older girl as she approached and gesturing for her to come closer. "Cho, you look fantastic."

"Thanks Lizzie," Cho said with a smile, quickly taking note of the lack of inhibitions that Lizzie was demonstrating. "I'm sorry to be such a downer on the party but can I speak with Harry for a moment?"

"Sure," Dennis said, nodding them away as Lizzie gave a groan of disappointment.

"Hey, Dennis," Harry said over his shoulder. "Hit her with a sobering charm, she'll thank you in the morning." Harry grinned as he turned away, although the grin quickly fell from his face. "What's going on?" he asked Cho quietly, mindful of the guests surrounding them.

"Remus wants to see you," Cho told him, allowing her voice to rise slightly as they exited the ballroom and reached the corridors of the Ministry. "He didn't mention what it was about."

"Is he in his office?" Harry asked, knowing Remus had turned down the offer to move into Amos's old work space after his temporary promotion.

Cho nodded. "He said he's sorry to call you away but he needs you and Hermione to help him."

"Have you got Hermione?" Harry asked.

"I was just about to after I filled you in," Cho informed him as Harry stepped into the lift, Cho stopping short of stepping inside.

"Hey, Cho," Harry said suddenly, stopping the lift door from closing as he took in her appearance. "You look good tonight, are you joining the party?"

"Daphne, Demelza, Colin and I are manning the phones whilst you guys are at the ball," Cho informed him. "We're all dressed up so we won't look out of place when we come to speak to you."

Harry nodded. "You've got a date then?" Harry asked, a grin creeping across his features.

Cho blushed slightly. "Technically, Colin," she admitted. "But he only asked me so he could get his family off his back about not having a girlfriend. Since we are not part of the party ourselves it makes very little difference."

"Sure," Harry said with a knowing smile, frustrating Cho to no end. Harry stepped back, allowing the doors to start closing before he stopped them again. "Can you do me a favour?" he asked, a frown threatening to sneak onto his face.

"Harry, you're my boss," Cho reminded him, causing him to break out in a smile.

"You're right," Harry replied, getting a grip. "Could you please tell Ginny where I've gone?"

"Of course," Cho replied. "Anything else."

"No," Harry said, slowly stepping back to allow the doors to close again. "Just… take your time. Enjoy the party while you're there." Harry briefly glimpsed Cho smile at him before the lift took him up and away, whisking him ever further from the festivities and into the nearly dead Ministry offices.

Walking past his office Harry gave a quick greeting as he walked past Colin's workstation, the senior assistant looking incredibly bored as he manned his phone, almost looking like he'd relish the prospect of doing some work.

By the time Harry reached Remus's office he'd passed Demelza too, as well as bumping into Parvati as she went the other way, clearly having only just stopped in from the party like he was doing.

"You called?" Harry said in greeting as he arrived at Remus's open office door.

"Yes," Remus said tiredly. "I did." He gestured for Harry to enter. "I'm sorry to have to take you away from the party but I'm afraid something's come up. Is Hermione on her way?"

"Cho just went back to get her," Harry told him, eyeing Remus curiously. "What's the issue?"

Remus seemed to think for a moment, glancing past Harry before deciding that he might as well start without Hermione. "It's an issue about Charlie Weasley," Remus informed him.

"Another one or the same one as before?" Harry asked, wondering how an issue from over two months ago could have resurfaced at such an inopportune time.

"A new one," Remus told him. "Although I suppose they are related." Remus sighed as he reached the point of contention. "There's no easy way to say this," he said eventually. "Charlie's gay."

Harry blinked in surprise, having not expected that in the slightest. "And?" Harry asked, suspecting there was something more to it for him to be called up.

"A reporter phoned Charlie up in the middle of the night and asked him questions pertaining to his sexual preference," Remus told him, prompting Harry to groan. "We don't know who it is but they are likely to take it to print for tomorrow morning."

"I suppose that's why you need Hermione," Harry reckoned as he rubbed at his eyes. "Did Charlie confirm the reporter's thoughts?"

"In a way," Remus hedged.

"No, Remus, you're not quite getting what I'm asking," Harry told him. "Did the reporter ask 'are you gay?' and did Charlie say 'yes'?"

Remus shook his head. "The reporter did ask the question," Remus admitted. "But Charlie didn't say 'yes'. He didn't commit to any answer, positive or negative, which of course leads the reporter to believe that he is gay."

"Is he?" Harry asked. "Because if he isn't then we just tell him to say so."

"He's gay," Remus told him confidently. "I talked to him over the phone, he quite freely admitted to it."

"But he didn't make it public knowledge," Harry repeated. "The Minister has been very clear about reporters getting involved in his family's private lives. We can have this reporter on a harassment charge at the very least."

"Well, that's what I've brought you here for," Remus informed him. "The Minister passed a bill imposing stiff penalties for people deemed to have gone beyond the call of duty in their reporting to the lengths of harassment. I need you to find it so we can wave it in this reporter's face and show him why he shouldn't mess with the Minister's family."

Harry nodded. "I suppose this will be in the storeroom," he said, starting to back out of the office.

"That would be the best place to start," Remus shrugged. "If it's not there then the likelihood is it's probably kicking around in somebody's office somewhere. Perhaps your's or Neville's."

Harry nodded as he turned fully to leave the Muggle Liaison Office, giving Hermione a silent greeting as they passed each other in the corridor, Hermione heading to Remus's office while Harry made his way to the store room. Entering the dark and empty room, Harry sighed tiredly as he went about searching through the files, hoping against all hope that he'd find the bill quickly so he could return to the ball downstairs.

* * *

"It's not here," Harry announced from where he was crouched before the shelves in the storage room. "It's all about quality control of potions ingredients down here."

Hermione hummed under her breath, flicking through files at the opposite shelf. "You might want to have a read over those," she suggested. "It could be useful for Ginny."

Harry grunted. "Not this stuff, I don't think," he muttered, reading over a file and shaking his head in disbelief. "I didn't even realise we had to make laws about most of these things. You'd have thought common sense would take care of them." He sighed, putting the file back and standing up straight. "How are you getting on?"

"Nothing yet," Hermione told him, flicking through files with her glasses perched on the end of her nose. "Are you sure it's in this section?"

"No," Harry responded, moving over to the next shelf and pulling out a massive file, taking it to a nearby table for him to read through it. "I have no idea if it's even in this room. I just figured this would be a good place to start; files labeled under the heading 'personal' or 'private' would be in this area."

"What else would it be under?" Hermione asked offhandedly.

"'Harassment'," Harry replied tiredly, flipping through the pages of the file before him. "'Press', although that would be around here too. 'Minister', 'Family'."

"'Minister's Family'," Hermione suggested with a grin. "You're basically just hoping to stumble across it, aren't you?"

"Yep," Harry replied, still flipping through the pages of the file before him. "Have you got a better idea? Seriously, anything to get us back to the party is fine with me."

"You could search through the storeroom log," Hermione suggested. "Everything that's filed in here has to go in it."

"Have you seen the log?" Harry asked, looking over at her as he shut the file before him, the noise reverberating throughout the room. "It would take me years to find anything in that, and we don't even know what the thing we're looking for is actually called." Harry sighed as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to summon up the willpower to keep searching. "Have you any news about the reporter?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I've asked Michael to look into it," she told him, grabbing his attention. "I felt bad dragging him from the party but we needed his help, so…"

Harry looked at her sadly. "He was at the party, was he?" he asked gently, getting a nod in response. "Alone?"

Hermione bit her lip, shaking her head as she kept her gaze focused on the files before her. "He had a date," she said simply, her voice slightly higher than normal. "A fellow reporter, I think he said."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked softly, his full attention focused on his friend.

"Of course," Hermione responded promptly, although not convincingly. "I broke up with him, after all. He has every right to go on dates with other people."

"That makes sense," Harry nodded, knowing Hermione was trying to rationalise things to try and convince herself it wasn't a big deal. "Still, it must have been hard for you to see him with another girl so soon after you broke up."

Hermione scoffed. "It's been a month, Harry," she said, her voice angry. "I shouldn't be feeling like this. I don't even like Michael like that, maybe I never really did."

"Then why are you feeling like this?" Harry asked, genuinely confused as to what his friend was thinking. "Was it the girl? Was she unpleasant or something?"

Hermione shook her head. "She was fine," she replied, the anger flooding out of her as she sunk into the seat opposite Harry. "There was nothing wrong with her. Nothing. It's just… she reminded me how I've been on my own ever since Michael and I broke up."

"That's not true," Harry argued. "Didn't you bring a date tonight too? Cormac… somebody."

Hermione snorted derisively. "McLaggen," she finished for him. "He's not my boyfriend, I just needed a date for this event and he was the only one available. I'm really starting to wish I hadn't come at all."

"I suppose it's not easy to see Ron with Josephine," Harry said after a moment, knowing by Hermione's reaction that he had correctly located the root of her problem. "I understand it's difficult that you have to hold your tongue on how you really feel."

"Difficult doesn't even begin to describe it," Hermione said with a scowl. "I just can't believe my luck that when I finally realise that I actually like the stupid knucklehead he happens to get involved in his first ever serious relationship."

"Yeah," Harry agreed thoughtfully. "It's awfully ironic." Hermione scowled at him. "Hermione," he said softly, worried by how she was likely to react. "Perhaps what you need now is to just meet new people."

"But I love Ron," Hermione said miserably.

"I know," Harry admitted. "But maybe there is someone out there you might love even more."

"And if there's not?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "Ron's going out with Josephine at the moment," Harry told her. "Maybe that won't last though. If they do break up and you still feel that way about Ron then that's your chance to tell him." Hermione looked uncertain. "It can't hurt to try."

Hermione smiled slightly at that. "I suppose not," she admitted. "Maybe I'll think about it." They sat in silence for a few minutes, not saying or doing anything.

"You know what," Harry said, going back to the shelf and replacing his file. "I can find this on my own, why don't you go back to the party?"

Hermione laughed. "Thanks, but no thanks," she said, going to find a new file from the shelves. "The fact that I'm doing this is the only excuse I have to avoid Cormac all night. The guy's insufferable."

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked interestedly.

"He's so full of himself," Hermione complained. "He's basically spent all evening telling me how great he is, talking about all the important people he knows and what not. And what he said to Josephine was really uncalled for."

"What did he say?" Harry asked.

"He asked if she was related to the man that killed Bellatrix LeStrange?" Hermione told him, causing Harry to suck in a breath in surprise. "I thought he'd just made a mistake, you know, said something he was thinking before remembering that it was socially unacceptable. I mean, that's forgivable. But I don't think that was the case."

"Why not?" Harry asked, his attention now completely turned away from the files.

"Well, I'd just introduced him to Ron right before then," Hermione told him. "And afterwords he couldn't shut up about how Ron got preferential treatment because he was related to the Minister. I think he said it just to get one up on Ron."

"That's ridiculous," Harry said angrily.

"That's what I saw," Hermione argued back.

"No, I believe you," Harry said hastily. "But that guy is such a piece of work. How did Josephine take it?"

Hermione sighed. "She seemed okay," she said sadly. "You can imagine that it hurt her but she seemed to take it very well. She even forgave me for it."

"Josephine's a good girl," Harry told her, watching her for a reaction. "She would have known you had nothing to do with it."

"I know," Hermione replied. "I know she's a good person. I like her. I just… I just wish I didn't, it would make things much easier."

"Things will get better," Harry promised her. "You'll see."

Hermione sighed tiredly in response. "I hope you're right," she said sadly, turning back to the shelf before her. "I hope you're right."

* * *

"Harry Potter," the announcer said loudly as Harry re-entered the ball room. Sparing a moment's glance for the man who'd been standing there for several hours, Harry started to move further into the room, eyes on the look out for his prize.

"Cho," Harry said urgently, spotting her walking past him, nearly missing him in the great throng in the hall. "You have something for me?"

"From Michael," Cho told him, trying to keep her voice light so as not to raise any suspicion as she handed over a tiny scrap of parchment.

"Is it a name," Harry asked, slipping it into his pocket without reading it. Cho nodded. "Alright, good work," Harry said, glancing around the crowded hall for any familiar faces. "I'll get it to Hermione and she'll do her thing."

"Anything I can do?" Cho asked.

Harry bit the inside of his mouth thoughtfully as he glanced around the ball room again. "You know what, go get Colin and bring him down here," Harry suggested. "There really isn't much for him to do up there, he might as well enjoy the party a bit."

"Alright," Cho said, smiling widely as they made their way back to the door. "I'll get him to come down."

"Good girl," Harry said with a grin, ignoring the indignant look on her face as they reached the door. Pausing as he made to walk through them, Harry turned to the announcer.

"Hey," he said, surprising the man who had been standing professionally by the door. "I might be coming in and out a few more times over the course of the evening, you don't have to call my name every time I do."

"I understand, sir," the man said politely, bowing respectfully to Harry.

"Right," Harry said, slightly uncertain if he'd gotten his message through as he exited the room. Walking towards the lifts to the Ministry offices Harry bumped into exactly the person he wanted to see.

"Hey, Hermione, I've got something for you," Harry announced as he saw her coming, holding the small scrap of parchment up in the air as they approached each other. "It's from Michael."

That caught Hermione's attention. "A name?" she asked as she reached him, snatching the note from his hand.

"I haven't seen it but that's what Cho said," Harry replied. "I was just going back to the party for a moment, do you want to join me?"

"Sure," Hermione responded, a small smile on her face. "This guy's a rookie, he'll cave quickly. I can spare the time."

Harry smiled back, gesturing for her to walk with him as he made his way back to the ballroom.

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," the announcer proclaimed as they walked inside, clearly having ignored Harry's earlier advice.

"Oh god," Hermione groaned, cringing at the volume of the man's tone. "Please tell me Cormac didn't hear that."

"Well," Harry said, his eyes on the crowd. "That isn't him there is it, fighting his way through the crowd."

"Oh god," Hermione moaned as she spotted him, the burly man standing tall above most of the other guests. "I've got to run. Good luck with the files, Harry."

Harry nodded, a slight smile on his face as he watched Hermione dart into the crowd, quickly and effectively disappearing. Not wanting to be caught by McLaggen himself, Harry decided it was time to move on, slipping through the crowd as he tried to relocate his date.

"Harry, where have you been for the last few hours?" Griphook asked, appearing suddenly before him as the crowd parted with the goblin's presence. "You look troubled."

"It's nothing, Griphook," Harry waved away, although he had to admit he did feel quite anxious and unhappy with the way the evening had progressed. "I've just been trying to find a file in the Ministry, it's been a rather difficult couple of hours."

"And I assume by trying you mean you still haven't found it," Griphook said, catching onto Harry's phrasing with an understanding nod. "I hear you. It's rather unfortunate that you've been pulled away from such a great gathering."

"You're enjoying yourself then?" Harry asked, smiling at the goblin before him.

"I must admit that I am," Griphook agreed. "Most people here are too nervous to hold a conversation with but I've spent much of the evening talking with Mr Longbottom. It's surprising how little I knew about him considering the hours we spent together in that meeting room."

Harry chuckled. "Do goblins hold events like this?" he asked interestedly, genuinely curious about goblin society.

"Nothing like this," Griphook denied. "We have gatherings occasionally to celebrate the birth of a new goblin or the pairing of a goblin and their mate. Much like weddings and christenings for humans."

"That's something I've always wondered," Harry said, getting really interested in the conversation now. "The pairing of a goblin and their mate, is that a special ceremony that announces them as a mated pair or does it just… happen, and they have the ceremony as a sort of celebration after the fact?"

"That depends," Griphook said thoughtfully. "There are many goblin families that view the ritual as much the same as a wedding. The goblins are separate before and then mated after. But fundamentally it is not a necessity in goblin culture."

"Goblin courtship is very formal," Griphook explained, looking equally as immersed in the discussion as Harry was. "There are very strict rules in how you approach a potential mate, and also how you respond to an approach by another goblin. The whole process is about respect and honesty. A goblin will talk and listen to a potential mate, and eventually, usually after a very long time communicating, both male and female goblin will decide they are willing to spend the rest of their life with each other. At this point the female goblin moves into the male goblin's lodgings, and from that point on they are considered, in the eyes of goblin law, a mated pair."

"Wow," Harry said. "That sounds fascinating, and probably quite a bit better than how humans choose their life partners."

Griphook shrugged. "To each their own," he said. "Goblin courtship has its own problems. It is not uncommon for a goblin to find themselves mated and then find they were wrong in their choice of mate. And because of the deep respect we hold for the courtship process we are subject to cases of unrequited love from one goblin harming another goblin's prospects of finding a mate. While I certainly don't approve of certain human forms of dating there are merits to a more liberal system than the one we goblins hold."

"Has there ever been any thought to modify goblin courtship?" Harry asked. "If you can see the problems then aren't there ways to help resolve them?"

"There are things we could do," Griphook conceded. "On the other hand, bringing through legislation on the acts of love is an incredibly tricky thing to do."

Harry nodded in agreement as they fell into a comfortable silence, man and goblin having a strangely familiar bond for creatures of different species.

"Can I ask you something?" Griphook said suddenly, getting a positive response. "Please, feel free to stop me if I go too far, but, how long have you and… my apologies, I've forgotten her name."

"Ginny," Harry supplied, catching on to the general direction Griphook was going with this.

"That's right," Griphook said, giving Harry an apologetic grin. "How long have you been courting Ginny?"

Harry blinked in surprise at the question, but answered it anyway. "Just over two years," he replied. "Two years, one month and ten days to be exact."

"And Ginny, she's your…" Griphook looked at him questioningly. "Mate?"

"We're not married," Harry replied quickly.

"But you are living together," Griphook continued.

Harry shook his head. "Why, is that weird in goblin culture?"

"It's not particularly unusual for a goblin to court another for over two years," Griphook told him. "I made Nexsyl my mate after just seven months and sixteen days, but I was an incredibly impulsive young goblin and I was incredibly fortunate that Nexsyl turned out to be what I thought she was."

"You still think it's unusual though," Harry said, knowing from Griphook's tone what he had yet to say.

"Living together isn't quite the same thing in human society as it is in goblin," Griphook commented. "Given that many goblins mate after only a year or two of courtship I am slightly surprised to find that you've not gone through with the slightly less meaningful act of living with your chosen other given the length of your courtship."

"It's not, I mean," Harry stuttered, not entirely sure how to respond. "What are you suggesting?"

Griphook sighed. "I fear I may have overstepped the bounds of our particularly relationship," he said regretfully. "I apologise for the intrusion."

"No, that's alright," Harry said, his brain spinning as Griphook's words echoed throughout his head. "You haven't overstepped anything. In fact, you've given me a lot to think about."

"I'm glad," Griphook said. "But please remember, I am a goblin. My understanding of human relationships is perhaps not the best one to rely on." He gave a short jerk of his head. "Your assistant is coming."

Harry turned to face Cho as she strode up to him, her elegant dress shimmering in the candle light. "Colin wants you to know he checked through the documents in Ron's room," Cho told him without preamble.

"Anything?" Harry asked, knowing the answer even before Cho shook her head. "Alright, well, thank Colin for me." Harry sighed as he rubbed his face with his hands. "I've got to get back up there," he said tiredly. "Cho, could you find Ginny and tell her what's happening? And please, apologise for me."

"Of course, Harry," Cho replied, quickly walking off into the crowd.

"Well, Griphook, it was nice speaking with you again," Harry said, turning back to the goblin. "Duty calls."

Griphook nodded his understanding. "Good luck with whatever it is you're trying to find," Griphook told him. "And try not to worry too much about what I said."

Harry chuckled slightly under his breath. "I think it's a bit too late for that," he said, looking sideways at Griphook. "You've given me a lot to think about."

* * *

"Charlie, you made it," the Minister said in relief, having been pacing the length of the office in agitation whilst he was waiting. Also in the office stood Remus, waiting patiently to the side of the room as he stayed out of the Minister's way, and Molly Weasley, sitting upon one of the sofas looking quite strained with the way the evening was turning out.

"Yes," Charlie said as he walked into the room, shaking hands with his father before his mother was able to engulf him in one of her trademark Molly Weasley hugs. "One of the dragon keepers was returning to England to see his family so he took me back with him."

"Well we're glad you are here," the Minister said sincerely, carefully prying his wife off her son, calmly sitting her down again. "Although we wish it was under better circumstances."

Charlie shrugged. "What are you going to do?" he asked rhetorically, although by the way his father shifted he realised there was more to the question. "What _are_ you going to do?" he asked, more seriously.

"I've called Harry and Hermione back from the party to look into this," the Minister told him. "Hermione has been trying to find out who it was who phoned you last night while Harry has been searching for any piece of legislation around that we can use to appropriately punish this guy for coming near you."

"Dad," Charlie moaned. "You shouldn't have done that. Harry and Hermione should be at the ball, celebrating the new year, not stuck in their office trying to find a way to screw this reporter."

"If it helps I think Hermione was relieved to have an excuse to leave the party," Remus said softly.

"And Harry?" Charlie asked, turning to address everyone in the room. "I'm pretty sure he had different plans for this new year than what he's undoubtedly doing right now."

"That may be the case," the Minister admitted his voice firm. "But no one harasses a member of my family. I've made it perfectly clear to the media time and time again that they need to stay away but again and again there always seems to be someone who sticks their nose where it doesn't belong."

"I thought we were done with this when we got rid of that foul Skeeter woman," Molly sniffed, tears of anger welling in her eyes. "The lies she printed about Harry and Ginny, unbelievable."

"That's not what you said when you first found out," Charlie reminded her, a small smile forming on his face.

"Well, yes," Molly spluttered, her face reddening in embarrassment as she recalled her initial reaction to the story. "That may be so but that was before I knew Harry, before I was aware of what a fine young boy he really is."

The Minister and Charlie exchanged knowing smiles, amused by the infatuation the Weasley matriarch had developed for their youngest's significant other. Unnoticed off to the side of the room, Remus couldn't help but smile, a feeling of intense pride rising in his chest as he heard the words spoken about his best friend's son.

Suddenly they were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Enter," the Minister called, his face turning serious as Hermione walked inside, nodding respectfully to all those present. "What have you got for us, Hermione?"

Hermione took a second to compose herself before she started to speak. "The reporter in question is William Pickle, a recent Hogwarts graduate working with Magician Weekly," she told everyone. "I've spoken with him at length and have impressed upon him just how seriously we are taking this breach of privacy."

"And?" the Minister asked.

"He seems genuinely sorry," Hermione replied. "He's just a kid. It wasn't until I read him the riot act that he really realised just what sort of trouble he was in."

"Remus?" the Minister asked, turning to his friend. "Off the top of your head, what do you think we'll be able to do to him?"

Remus took a second to respond, thinking over his answer carefully. "A fine," he said simply. "I could not say how much but for a recent graduate even a small fine will make life more difficult for him, make him think twice about doing it again."

"There is no way to sentence him to any time in jail?" the Minister asked, to gasps from his wife and protests from his son.

"Not for a first offence," Remus said simply.

"Dad, don't do this," Charlie begged with him. "The guy's just a kid. Just give him a slap on the wrist and move on. This isn't a big deal."

"This is a huge deal," the Minister argued, his anger starting to come out in his voice. "Whether you are gay or not is not his business and it is your right to tell people if and when you so choose. To report this for the whole country to see is a direct violation of that right."

"But he won't," Charlie said softly, his eyes softening as he listened to the passion his father spoke with. "He won't print a story about it because you'll stop him. You'll give him a slap on the wrist, we'll move on and I'll retain my right to tell who I want when I want."

The Minister nodded slowly, taking in the words his son spoke. "Hermione," he said, bringing the press secretary's attention to him. "Go back to that kid and give him another good telling off," he said. "Then tell him that we are imposing a small fine on him and that if he does something like this again we will not be lenient."

"Yes, sir," Hermione nodded, leaving the room quietly as everyone pondered the sentence the Minister had handed down. With a sigh, the Minister turned back to Charlie.

"You know this isn't the end," he said tiredly, looking sadly at his son. "The kid will have talked to other reporters and there will be nothing to stop them from printing the story. Your sexuality is going to be called into question."

"I know," Charlie said quietly, glancing from his father to his mother, noting the sadness they looked at him with. "But I think I'm ready to tell people now."

"You are?" Molly blinked in surprise, having not expected her son to have admitted to that.

"Yes," Charlie replied confidently. "The people closest to me, they already know. I don't care if strangers know that I'm gay so I might as well come out and say it."

Molly choked back a sob, looking up at her second son with pride shining from her eyes. Unable to contain herself for a moment longer, she got up and rushed towards Charlie, embracing him fiercely in a hug Charlie returned softly.

Glancing over his mothers shoulder, Charlie's gaze met the Minister's. The Minister was smiling proudly as he looked at his son and in that one shared look the years apart seemed to disappear for good.

* * *

"Good evening everyone, let's keep this brief, as I'm sure everyone is eager to return to the party," Hermione said, stepping up to the podium and looking down at the very smartly dressed reporters sitting before her.

"Before you start," Sophie interrupted, standing up in her pale pink dress. "I'd just like to say that you look absolutely gorgeous in that dress."

"Thank you," Hermione said with a smile. "And may I say that all of you look either beautiful or handsome this evening. Even you, Donald." There were chuckles as Sophie sat down, allowing Hermione to proceed.

"This press conference was called for one simple reason and it is in reference to the story that a reporter called up the Minister's second son, Charlie, with questions regarding his sexuality," Hermione announced. "The reporter in question will receive a fine and has been given a strict warning that a repeat offence will result in even harsher punishment."

"Hermione, can you tell us who the reporter was?" Clint asked.

"I could, but I'm not going to," Hermione responded. "I've talked to the reporter and it is my opinion that he or she has fully understood the gravity of their actions. I feel that there is no need to take this further than that."

"Hermione, while it was clearly wrong of this reporter to call Charlie up," Sophie said. "Is there any truth to the reports that Charlie Weasley is in fact gay?"

"Usually I wouldn't answer that question," Hermione replied. "But today is a special case. Charlie Weasley has asked that I announce that the rumours are true and that he is, in fact, gay."

"Who was aware of this?" Donald asked.

"I can't give you all the names," Hermione told him. "But Charlie had already told his family and closest friends. In his own words, 'The people closest to me already know'. While it is none of our business the subject of anyone's sexuality I would like to congratulate Charlie on the courage of having me announce this. We live in a society that has famously shunned people that have different views in the past so it should always be celebrated when someone has the courage to be true to themselves no matter who may judge them."

"That will be all," Hermione said, moving to pick up her notes before remembering she didn't have any. "The countdown is fast approaching so I'd like to wish all of you a happy new year."

As she stood down from the podium she received many 'happy new year's' back as the reporters returned to the party, ready to usher in the next twelve months.

* * *

Harry searched through a shelf near the ground as he knelt before it, flipping through files and folders he had kept there.

"I'm really sorry about this," he said sincerely, glancing over at the other occupant of the room.

"It's alright," Ginny replied from her perch upon his desk, quietly watching him work as she sat there. "It's your job, you've been asked to do it by the Minister of Magic. I understand."

"You shouldn't be up here," Harry said sadly. "You should be down at the party, celebrating with everyone else."

"I don't want to celebrate with everyone else," Ginny replied, leaning forward. "I want to celebrate with you."

"Me too," Harry admitted. "But I still need to find-"

"But nothing, Harry," Ginny cut across him. "I'm not going to stop you from doing your job but I am going to spend the last few minutes of this year with you."

"It won't be fun," Harry warned her, his gaze flicking between his girlfriend and the files on the shelf before him. "You'll enjoy yourself more downstairs."

Ginny shook her head, a small smile crossing her face. "No, I won't," she denied, getting Harry's full attention. "I didn't get to spend last new year's with you, or the one before that. Believe me Harry, there is nowhere I'd rather be right now than with you."

Harry smiled at that, revelling in the warm feeling that grew inside him at those words. "Me too," he said softly, sharing a look with the girl before him that only they could understand.

"Hey, Uncle Harry," a voice called from down the corridor, surprising both the occupants of the room.

"Hey, Teddy," Harry called back, smiling as his godson approached quickly, clearly eager to see him but trying his best to hide it. "I see your parents were able to convince Professor McGonagall to let you out of Hogwarts for the night."

"Yeah," Teddy nodded, reaching Harry before he even noticed Ginny was in the room. "Hi, Aunt Ginny."

Ginny smiled, touched that the young boy had taken to her as an aunt. "Hi Teddy," she replied warmly. "Have you enjoyed the party?"

Teddy shrugged. "It's been alright," he said uninterestedly. "I mean, there is hardly anyone my age that I know, except for Victoire and her brother and sister. Plus my dad's been up here for most of the evening as well."

"So you've been spending your time with your mother?" Harry asked, sifting through a few more files on the shelf.

"Yeah," Teddy said tiredly as Harry suddenly let out an exuberant shout.

"Got it," he cheered as he pulled out the file, opening it up to read the summary with a delighted grin on his face. "Typical, I search for this all evening and it's been sitting in my office all along."

"What is it?" Teddy asked curiously, craning his neck to try and read over the edge.

"This, Teddy, is the document that allows us to fine people for harassing members of the Minister's family," Harry told him. "Actually it extends to family members of any Ministry worker so it covers you too."

"Hurray," Teddy cheered sarcastically. "Why were you looking for it?"

"It's a long story," Harry explained, closing up the file and placing it on the edge of the shelf next to him. "And I'm not even sure I'm allowed to tell you."

"Okay," Teddy shrugged, having not actually been that interested in the first place.

"What are your plans, Teddy?" Ginny asked, her smile noticeably wider now that Harry was able to devote his full attention on her. "Are you going back to find your parents and head back to the party?"

"Well, that's what I wanted to do," Teddy replied, making a face. "But my mum told me that she was going to kiss dad at midnight so I decided I was better off finding someone who wasn't going to do that."

"Well I'm afraid that you've come to the wrong place," Harry told him, glancing at Ginny with a smile. "And I'm pretty sure most people will tell you the same."

Teddy groaned, his head flopping against his chest.

"How about you go see Victoire?" Ginny suggested. "She'll be in a very similar situation as you."

Teddy looked hesitant. "I don't know," he said edgily. "Victoire's a girl, she'll probably want to kiss someone at new year too."

"Probably," Harry agreed, a knowing smile on his face as he looked down at the awkward teenager. "But there aren't many boys her own age for her to kiss, are there? And I don't think she'll be comfortable kissing a total stranger."

"I know what you are trying to do," Teddy warned Harry, his serious expression looking out of place on his young face.

"Well," Harry said, slightly taken aback by being caught out. Then again, this was Remus's child. "It is true, and we both know you like her." He said bluntly. The Sirius method, as Remus had coined it.

"Uncle Harry," Teddy hissed, eyes wide as he glanced worriedly at Ginny.

"She already knows," Harry said, waving him off easily. "She's my girlfriend, I don't keep anything from her. You'll learn that when you get older."

Teddy shifted nervously, glancing between Harry and Ginny worriedly. "She won't want to kiss me," he said quietly, clearly uncomfortable to be leaving himself bare before them. "She's really beautiful and amazing, she wouldn't want to kiss a guy like me."

"You say that," Harry said. "But I don't think you give yourself enough credit. Personally I think she'd be really glad to be asked to kiss at midnight."

"You think so?" Teddy asked, his eyes betraying his fears. "What if she says no?"

"Teddy, it's new year's," Harry said extravagantly. "It's the best opportunity you could ever get. You should go down there and kiss her. If she kisses you back, then great. If she says 'dude, what the hell are you doing?' you can just say it wasn't you, it was new year's."

Teddy continued to look nervously up at him. "You really think that would work?" he asked quietly, to which Harry gave an emphatic nod. "And you?" he asked, turning to Ginny.

"I think," Ginny said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "That Victoire would love it if you kissed her at midnight."

Teddy watched her, looking for any signs of deception before turning back to Harry, who was still smiling broadly. "Okay," he whispered softly, nodding his head. "Okay, I'll do it. I'll kiss Victoire."

"There we go," Harry said, patting Teddy on the shoulder. "Now, you better get back to the ballroom. It's almost midnight and you wouldn't want to miss the end of the countdown."

With genuine childlike fear in his eyes Teddy hurried away, scampering down the corridor at a pace that could only just be describe as less than a run. Watching him go, Ginny leaned on Harry's shoulder, standing there long after Teddy had run out of sight.

"That new year's line," Ginny asked suddenly. "Did you ever actually use that before?"

"Once," Harry admitted, looking down shamefully. "The girl I said it to slapped me afterwords. To be fair I was quite drunk, that probably was the best course of action."

Ginny chuckled, shaking her head at Harry's story. "We should get down there too," she said, taking hold of Harry's hand and starting to lead him towards the door. "We wouldn't want to miss the countdown."

Harry stopped her quickly, taking her hand in both of his as he turned her to face him. "Before we go I'd like to say just one thing," he said softly, looking gently into her eyes. "Earlier today I was talking with Griphook about goblin society and he made a point that's been gnawing at me ever since."

"What was it?" Ginny asked, taking her other hand to his as she held on to him.

"Ginny," Harry said softly, building up his courage. "Would you like to live with me?"

Ginny's eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's a big step," she replied evasively, looking down at their clasped hands. "Are you sure we're ready for that?"

Harry gently freed one of his hands and used it to tilt her face up towards his, looking deep into her eyes. "I think we are," he said softly. "We've been going out for over two years now, I think we know each other well enough."

"I agree, I feel like I know you better than anyone," Ginny replied. "But this is an awfully big step. I've never done this before, with anyone."

"I know," Harry admitted. "Me neither, but I don't think that should stop us." He sighed gently as he took in her beautiful face. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. I can't imagine what my life would be without you, I just know it would be unbearable. Every time I come home to my empty flat I cry a bit inside that you're not there to greet me. Just the idea of waking up every morning to see your face, getting home from work and seeing you reading a book or watching the latest quidditch match, makes me want to be able to call your home my home too. So what do you say?"

Ginny had been watching him intently, tears slowly welling up in the back of her eyes as she listened to him speak. As he finished a smile passed over her face, the tears in her eyes threatening to overwhelm her in her happiness.

"Yes," she whispered thickly, the emotion overcoming her. "Yes, move in with me. I want to wake up with you every morning and go to sleep with you every night. I want to be able to wait up for you when you are working late and spend my time with you when you're not. I want to live with you."

Harry smiled, a joyous smile filled with more happiness than he could imagine. A quick thought popping up in the back of his mind, Harry checked his watch, smiling as he looked down at the ticking hands. "It's almost midnight," he noted.

"You couldn't have timed it better if you'd tried," Ginny laughed tearfully, her cheeks flushed as she smiled at him.

"5…4…" Harry started to countdown, his eyes rising to meet Ginny's. "3… 2… 1." The one came out as no more than a whisper as Harry's lips met Ginny's, the emotions the two of them felt being shared in a breathtaking kiss as a distant clock chimed twelve.

Elsewhere in the Ministry others shared in similar kisses to bring in the new year. Husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, even a few friends engaging in the act as secret feelings showed themselves for just the tiniest of moments. Even the goblins and centaurs invited for the event got into the spirit, enjoying the human tradition with their partners as they celebrated with their interspecies friends.

Back up in Harry's office, Harry and Ginny gently broke apart, the magical kiss eventually coming to an end as they stared into each others eyes.

"Happy New Year Ginny," Harry said, smiling as he kissed her softly again.

"Happy New Year Harry," Ginny replied, pulling him back in for another kiss. "Now lock the door."

With a grin Harry flicked his wand at his office door, locking and silencing charms coming up as they embraced passionately, truly kicking off the new year in style.


	11. Resolution

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"So this is what you boys do every morning," Hermione said, talking over the sound of the bouncing ball as Harry and Ron faced off against each other. "Basketball?"

Harry took that opportunity to step back and take a shot, grimacing as the ball bounced off the side of the rim. "Yeah," he said as Neville grabbed the rebound.

"I didn't even know you guys knew about basketball," Hermione said in surprise. "What about quidditch?"

"It's difficult to play quidditch with only three players," Harry pointed out as Neville took his turn against Ron.

"So you turned to basketball?" Hermione asked. "Where did you even hear about it, I thought you didn't know anything about muggle sports?"

"Remus," Harry explained as Ron blocked Neville's shot, knocking the ball away and forcing Neville to chase after it. "He always thought it would be a good idea to teach me about both muggle and magical culture while I was growing up."

"Hannah's cousin is an amateur basketball player," Neville added as he reached them again, tossing the ball gently into Ron's hands. "He taught me the basics when he was over last summer."

"And then we taught Ron," Harry concluded as Ron took a shot, easily making it as he was left completely unguarded. "We play down here all the time these days to loosen up a bit before work. What are you doing down here?"

"Well, I figured you guys must be playing quidditch down here," Hermione responded as Neville found the ball again and started dribbling with it. "My new year's resolution this year is to try new things more often."

"You were going to try and play quidditch with us?" Ron asked, eyebrows raised as he took his attention off Neville, who dribbled past him and made an easy layup.

"I was actually going to try to learn how to fly," Hermione corrected him, although she didn't seem particularly pleased about the prospect of that either. "I know it might sound ridiculous to you but I haven't flown a broomstick since the flying lessons we took in first year."

"You're right, that does sound ridiculous," Ron said, receiving the ball from Neville and passing it on to Harry.

"Here," Harry said, lobbing the ball gently towards her, which she bundled clumsily to her chest. "Have a shot," he encouraged her, miming a shooting motion as Ron and Neville stopped to watch.

Hermione looked at the ball uncertainly before heaving it up into the air and tossing it towards the basket, just like Harry had shown her. The ball fell far short, bouncing before it reached Ron standing under the basket.

"You'll get better," Harry assured her as Ron tossed the ball to him. He threw it over to Neville who, upon catching it, took a shot, the ball rattling around the rim before falling in.

"What are you guys doing for your new year's resolutions?" Neville asked as Ron caught the ball under the basket.

"I am going to listen to one campaigner every day," Ron announced, laying the ball into the basket and catching it again as it fell through, before passing out to Neville. "The sort of people we'd never listen to normally. Colin arranges the meetings and no matter what they say I have to listen to them and talk to them for at least twenty minutes."

"That's weird," Harry noted, taking a shot and smiling as it made a satisfying swish through the basket. "Wait, was that what that strange guy with the big pointed wizard hat was in for?"

Ron nodded with a grimace, passing the ball to Hermione, who fumbled it as she was caught unawares. "Yeah, he wanted to introduce wizards hats as compulsory uniform for Ministry workers," Ron scowled.

"What an idiot," Harry commented as Hermione was finally able to get a grasp on the ball.

"I think it's a good idea," Hermione said approvingly, throwing the ball to Neville and wincing as the ball managed to bounce twice before reaching him. "It'll help broaden your perspective."

"And make me more patient," Ron added, catching on that she wasn't referring to the hats. "I've got to be nice to them the entire time, no mean remarks, no mocking, nothing, not even sarcasm."

"That's tough," Neville said, dribbling the ball a couple of times before throwing it to Ron. "Josephine put you up to it?"

Ron laughed. "Yeah, she says that it'll help make me a better person." He shrugged. "She's probably right. What are you doing, Harry?"

"Nothing yet," Harry answered, catching the ball and tossing it straight back to him. "Ginny, on the other hand, says she's going to do something nice for me every day."

"Aw, that's sweet," Hermione said, prompting Ron to throw the ball to her. Tossing it back with a scowl, Hermione turned back to Harry. "What sort of things does she do?"

"Well," Harry said, mentally working through the days since new year's. "On the first she agreed to live with me, so that was pretty nice." Ron and Neville chuckled. "She's made me a wonderful three course dinner, she took me to the cinema, oh, and on Tuesday she came into work and gave me a massage in my office."

"Oh, so that's why your office door was locked," Ron said. "Cho said you were busy but I didn't know what to think. You were in there for like an hour."

"An hour for a massage?" Neville asked, frowning.

"Well, we did some other stuff too," Harry said with a grin, before he was cut off by Ron throwing the ball hard into his chest. "I suppose I shouldn't mention what she did for me yesterday, in that case," he added cheekily to Ron, who glared at him hatefully.

"Well, I think that's a really good idea," Hermione said. "Why don't you just do the same?"

Harry sighed. "I can't just copy her, there would be no originality to it," Harry complained. "And it would make her feel less about what she was doing if I did it too," Harry sighed again as he took a shot, the ball falling smoothly through the hoop again. "No, I can't do that. Neville, what are you doing?"

Neville took a second to reply as he caught Ron's pass. "I've decided that I'm going to make better use of my Herbology skills," he stated, throwing the ball to Hermione who actually managed to catch it cleanly, to grins from the three boys.

"Do you have anything planned?" Ron asked, beckoning for Hermione to pass to him and just about being able to stretch for the ball before it hit the ground.

"Well, I've got permission to redo my building's garden," Neville told them. "It's a real mess so none of the other tenants mind me having a crack at it. After that I was thinking of doing something at Alea's flat, she's got a window box but she's never got the time to look after anything. I figure I can plant some easy to maintain flowers in there, brighten up her view."

"That sounds really interesting," Hermione said. "Why don't you do something like that Harry?"

Harry sighed. "My two skills other than my job are quidditch and duelling," he told her, watching as Neville took a shot, the ball falling too short and bouncing off the front of the rim. "What can you do with that?"

No one answered that. Harry sighed again. "I don't eat something I shouldn't," he said, catching Ron's pass and bouncing the ball between his legs. "I work out regularly. I devote a lot of attention to both my professional and private lives. There really isn't anything else I can do, especially with how busy I can be with work." Harry stopped dribbling and took his shot, draining the shot through the hoop as he relaxed after the brief intense physical work out.

Their attention was brought away as they heard the sound of the door opening. Turning, they spotted Remus walking inside the gym hall, dressed in his work clothes and looking really out of place among the casually dressed younger members of staff.

"I can't say I'm surprised to find you here," he told them as he moved closer, although he did raise an eyebrow at Hermione.

"Hey, Remus, catch," Ron said, flinging the ball out to him.

Remus caught the ball competently, the pass having been sent at a good height. Wandering forward, without dribbling, Remus walked up to the three point line. Stopping, Remus bounced the ball once, twice, three times before tossing the ball into the air, draining the three pointer with ease to surprised looks on Ron's, Hermione's and Neville's faces.

"He's good," Harry informed them needlessly as he fetched the ball from where it had fallen. "So what are you doing here, Remus?"

Remus walked the rest of the way to them, showing no ill effects from having taken the shot. "I wanted to speak with you all before you came into work today," Remus told them quietly, glancing around the deserted gym hall as if worried someone was listening in. "Amos is back."

The four colleagues turned serious at that, each of them forgetting the fun and games from earlier in light of the big news.

"Is he in right now?" Harry asked quietly, eliciting a nod from Remus. "How did he look?"

Remus sighed. "You know Amos," he said meaningfully. "He looks just as confident and businesslike as he usually does."

"So what's the deal now?" Hermione asked. "Is he finished seeing his psychiatrist?"

"He's been cleared to return to work," Remus told them. "He's still going to be having regular sessions with his psychiatrist but other than that he'll be resuming his old duties, I'll be going back to mine and Neville, you'll be filling in for when Amos is away."

Remus scanned their faces for a moment, watching their reactions. "I know you all care about Amos," he said. "And I know you all want to make sure he knows you're there for him, but just act normal, okay. That's what he needs right now."

They all nodded, some more reluctantly than others as they thought over what this would mean.

"I suppose we better be getting in to work," Ron said, taking the ball from Harry and walking to the door. Neville grabbed his jumper and water bottle and followed, while Hermione hovered around nervously before leaving too. Eventually it was only Harry and Remus left.

"Remus, can I ask you something?" Harry said as he reached the door, Remus waiting patiently behind him. "What's your new year's resolution this year?"

Remus paused, looking at Harry thoughtfully. "My new year's resolution this year is the same as the one I use every year," he told him. "To not let me being a werewolf hold me back."

Harry thought about that for a second, taking the moment to think of how sad that was. "Right," he said simply, walking out of the door and leaving Remus behind.

* * *

"Who was that?" Harry asked as he watched a tall, gangly looking wizard walk out from Ron's office and make his way down the corridor, seeming to sweep past the various staff members with ease.

"His name is Vladimir," Ron told him in a long suffering tone. "He came as a representative of the vampire appreciation society."

"There's a vampire appreciation society?" Harry questioned, turning his head to try and catch another glimpse of the strange man. "Who would appreciate a vampire?"

"Someone who's never met one," Ron replied. "Seriously, you hear the guy talk about them and it sounds as though they are these cute little bunny-like creatures that wouldn't hurt a fly. Completely forgetting that they suck blood for a living."

"But you remained civil throughout," Harry challenged, leaning back against the filing cabinet with a mixture of amusement and amazement.

"Yes, I did," Ron replied. "Hard to believe but I can actually put up with idiots like him when I have to."

"You just choose not to," Harry finished for him. "Listen, I was just coming to find you. I'm on my lunch break, do you want to join me?"

"Sure," Ron said, checking his watch. "I've not got much time, there is some meeting I have to go to in about twenty minutes."

"Fifteen minutes," Colin corrected him from his desk.

"That's enough time to grab something to eat," Ron concluded, glancing briefly back into his office. "Let's go."

"It's fine that you've got a meeting," Harry commented as they made their way through the corridors towards the cafeteria. "I have one too in about half an hour."

"What's it about?" Ron asked, more out of politeness than any actual interest.

"It's Niall McGin," Harry said, catching Ron's attention as he recognised the name. "He's been trying to get a meeting for a while but our timetables keep clashing."

"Niall McGin?" Ron asked as they walked into the cafeteria. "Are we talking about the same guy?"

Harry nodded, smiling politely at the cafeteria lady as he showed her the sandwich and drink he'd picked out. "The spokesperson for the Lesbian, Gay, Bi-Sexual and Trans-Gender Alliance?" Harry replied, handing over a few coins and waiting patiently as Ron submitted his own order. "If that's who you're thinking of then yes, we are talking about the same guy."

"Do you know what he wants?" Ron asked suspiciously, paying for his meal before leading Harry towards a free table. "That guy comes in with some of the most ridiculous suggestions sometimes."

Harry shrugged. "He didn't say," he replied, taking a large bite out of his sandwich. "Cho talked to him, not me. She said he sounded excited."

"Well that's never good," Ron muttered, causing Harry to chuckle, nearly choking on his sandwich as he did so. "If I hadn't just sat through a meeting with Count Dracula back there I'd have offered to do this for you as my new year's resolution."

Harry shook his head, chuckling at the image Ron's word choice had conjured in his mind. "It might not be so bad," Harry commented as Ron started to inhale his food, the sight incredible to anyone who had never witnessed it before. "The LGBT are a legitimate group, this could end up being a productive meeting."

Harry picked up his sandwich and took a small nibble out of it, his thoughts elsewhere as a question arose in his mind. "Have you seen Amos yet?" Ron nodded. "Really? How is he? Is he ready to talk about what happened or…?"

Ron waved away the questions, swallowing the last portion of his sandwich as he prepared to answer Harry's questions. "Harry, I don't know," he replied.

"But you said-" Harry started but Ron quickly cut him off.

"I've seen him," Ron told him. "In passing in the corridor. I haven't talked to him, he hasn't said anything to me. I barely even got a good look at him as he passed."

Harry calmed down slightly, although he was still anxious for news. "How did he look?" he asked, putting down his sandwich as his appetite deserted him.

Ron shrugged with a sigh. "Like Amos," he replied, shaking his head. "When I saw him it was just like I'd travelled back in time to some normal day before the story broke. He hides things, Amos. That's just how he is."

Harry sighed in response, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes. "I know," he admitted quietly. "I just wish he wasn't so… robotic."

"You talking about Amos?" Hermione asked as she joined them at the table with a sandwich and drink of her own. "Have either of you seen him?"

"I saw him briefly," Ron explained. "Just for a second and then he was gone again."

"I was just asking because I just spoke to him a few minutes ago," Hermione replied. Immediately Harry and Ron leant forward listening to her every word.

"What did he say?" Ron asked, Harry nodding in agreement to the question as they both stared intently at Hermione. "Did he mention the alcohol?"

"No," Hermione said sadly, causing the shoulders of the two boys to slump. "He didn't say anything about that, or how his therapy was going. He was just completely businesslike."

"What did he say?" Harry asked.

"I didn't want to say too much," Hermione said tentatively. "Remus told us not to mention it. But I did ask him how it felt to be back at the Ministry."

"And?" Ron encouraged.

"He didn't answer," Hermione said, throwing her hands in the air exasperatedly. "He just sat there staring at me as though I'd grown an extra head. Eventually I just decided to leave and save myself the awkward discussion."

"Well," Harry said, throwing the remains of his sandwich onto his tray dispiritedly. "At least it tells us something. Amos is not alright."

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement, neither comfortable with the conclusion but knowing better than to doubt it.

"Well, I better be off," Ron said with a sigh, standing up and crushing the empty sandwich packet in his hand. "I've got a meeting to get to."

"Wait," Hermione said quickly, stopping him from leaving. "I was just thinking that perhaps the three of us could do something tonight," Hermione suggested, glancing hopefully between Harry and Ron.

"Sorry Hermione," Ron said regretfully. "I've got a date with Josephine tonight so I won't be able to do anything. Sorry."

"No, that's alright," Hermione waved away, slightly flustered. "You've got plans."

"Alright," Ron said, nodding to the two of them. "I'll see you later Hermione. Harry, good luck with McGin." Harry nodded his appreciation as Ron left the cafeteria, dumping his rubbish into the bin as he exited the room.

"You okay?" Harry asked as Ron moved out of sight, eyeing up Hermione's slightly spaced out look.

"Yes, yes, of course," Hermione replied quickly, mentally slapping herself for forgetting she wasn't alone.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, before deciding to drop it as Hermione gave him a look. "What were you planning on doing tonight?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know," she said evasively, not fooling Harry in the slightest. "I was just thinking that we could go to a club together, like we used to when we'd just graduated Hogwarts."

Harry nodded his head approvingly, liking the sound of the idea. "Why don't we do that?" Harry suggested to her. "Just the two of us."

"Just us two?" Hermione repeated questioningly. "Wouldn't you rather spend your time with Ginny?"

Harry acknowledge it was a fair point. "Ginny's out of the country for a couple of days," Harry told her, his voice becoming unintentionally more depressed. "Besides, you're one of my best friends Hermione, I love spending time with you."

Hermione smiled slightly at his proclamation. "Where is Ginny?" she asked, interested to hear why the younger girl was out of the country.

"Paris," Harry answered promptly, piquing Hermione's interest. "Alea set her firm up with a distributer in the city and Ginny is down there with a few of her colleagues to work out a deal with them."

"That's brilliant," Hermione replied, smiling at the idea of Ginny's company growing. "Ginny will absolutely love it in Paris, it's a beautiful city." Hermione tilted her head slightly at Harry. "Although if she's going to be there all day that does mean she won't be able to do anything nice for you. She won't be able to fulfil her new year's resolution."

"Not entirely true," Harry contradicted her. "There are plenty of things Ginny can do for me in Paris."

"Do you know what she is doing?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Clothes shopping," Harry replied, a small smile flitting across his face. "Ginny says that some of the best fabrics are sold in Paris."

"Clothes shopping?" Hermione repeated questioningly. "What's getting herself a new coat going to do for you?"

"Not those kind of clothes," Harry said quietly, ducking his head as he glanced around to make sure no one had heard him.

"What kind of-" Hermione started before her eyes widened in realisation, her mouth forming a perfect o. "I see," she said, blushing furiously as she stared down at the table. "I understand now."

Despite his own embarrassment Harry couldn't help but grin at Hermione's reaction, remembering days when the mere mention of any form of physical relationship would render her mute and completely red in the face. Glancing at his watch, Harry realised that it was time for him too to set off.

"So we'll go out tonight," Harry said, recapturing Hermione's attention as he polished off the last morsel of food on his tray. "I'll come round your office after your last briefing and we'll decide where we're heading."

"Okay," Hermione said, watching as Harry got to his feet. "You've got a meeting now?"

Harry nodded. "Niall McGin," Harry answered, Hermione instantly recognising the name. "Who knows what he wants? Actually, I'll know what he wants in a few minutes." Harry grabbed his rubbish. "See you later."

Getting a small goodbye in return, Harry made his way out the cafeteria, throwing away his rubbish as he did so in much the same manner as Ron. Making his way back to his office Harry caught the eye of Cho at her desk, Harry gesturing his head towards his office door with a questioning look.

"He's already in," Cho told him quietly as he approached her. "He wouldn't say what this was about, just told me that you'd know when you got here."

"Alright," Harry said with a sigh, glancing over his shoulder at his office door. "Wish me luck." Without another word Harry turned towards his office, confidently pulling open the door and striding inside.

"Niall, good to see you," Harry said politely, smiling as he shook the shorter man's hand. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Harry," Niall replied, watching as Harry rounded his desk and took his seat behind it, motioning for Niall too to sit down. "I apologise for being so mysterious but I'd rather this discussion was kept quiet until we came to a resolution."

"I understand," Harry said diplomatically, noting the slight nervousness behind Niall's presence. "What is it you wished to speak to me about?"

Niall cleared his throat before he began to speak. "The Lesbian, Gay, Bi-Sexual and Trans-Gender Alliance have asked me to speak with you about an opportunity we feel would greatly aid the lesbian, gay, bi-sexual and trans-gender community."

"Which is?" Harry pressed, leading Niall on to the end of his idea.

"We wish to talk with Charlie Weasley about having him give his support to our community," Niall announced, to silence in the office. Harry stared at him for several long minutes, first to ascertain if he was kidding and second to formulate any sort of reasonable response to the suggestion.

"Sorry, what now?" Harry said eventually, completely stumped by the suggestion.

"I said we would like Charlie Weasley-" Niall repeated but Harry waved him away.

"I got that part," Harry said, bringing a hand up to his head and gently rubbing at his temple.

"Then what part didn't you get?" Niall responded smoothly, staring Harry down as he folded his arms confrontationally across his chest.

Harry sighed, shaking his head from side to side in disbelief. "No," he said simply, closing his eyes as though to block out the pain. "Just no. I'm not going to agree to this."

"I don't believe it is up to you to agree with this," Niall argued, leaning forward against Harry's desk. "I came to this office as a courtesy to the Ministry. I do not need your approval to do this, all I need is the approval of Charlie Weasley."

"Which you are not going to get," Harry argued. "The guy has only just revealed to the nation, after having his hand forced, by the way, that he's gay. Now you want to use him as some sort of poster boy."

"Why are you so convinced Charlie will not be up for this?" Niall asked, his expression hard. "Is it really that hard to believe that he would want to take a stand for people like himself?"

"See, there's your problem," Harry said, leaning forward in his seat and pointing a finger at the man across from him. "'People like himself'. You mean gays and lesbians by that. What you fail to get is that 'people like himself' includes me, the guy who works in the office next door, the guy who works in the office across the way, the three assistants who are currently working just outside that door and pretty much every other member of this Ministry and indeed of this country."

"How can you claim to understand what it is like to be gay?" Niall shot back. "How can you, a young, newly-halfblood, white male with a full education and a full political career, ever understand what it's like to be different."

Harry shook his head, unable to believe the words the man before him was speaking. "How can you possibly think that there is such a thing as the completely average person?" he argued back. "The normal person doesn't exist. Everyone has got something that makes them different, and that's a good thing for a society. I may be white, I may be half-blood, I may be young, educated, well-off, but don't think that means I can't understand. I'm an orphan, I have my fair share of difficulties."

"I never meant to suggest that there was such a person who held a life untroubled by the perils of our society," Niall replied after a moment, his voice calm. "What I am suggesting is that you can't understand what it's like to be gay, unless you are."

"Do you really believe that?" Harry asked, leaning back in his seat. "I may not want to be in a relationship with another man but I do understand wanting to be in a relationship. I understand love, and lust and want and I know that those emotions don't change regardless of which sex you feel this way about."

"Harry, if it were just about the way you felt about yourself then we wouldn't have a problem," Niall said sagely. "It's society that tells us we're wrong and that we should be ashamed of ourselves. And that's why I've come to you today, to try and change the public perception."

Harry sighed again, wondering if he'd ever get through a day without performing that particular gesture. "We're not going to tell Charlie to do this," he said finally. "We aren't going to pressure him into taking centre stage on this issue."

"I'm not asking you to pressure him," Niall said softly. "I'm just asking you to ask him on our behalf."

"If we don't?" Harry asked tiredly, glancing up at the man across from him.

"If you don't then we will," Niall said simply, leaving Harry without a single doubt that he was serious. "If he says no we'll drop it and you won't hear about it again."

Harry took his time to ponder the situation, staring unseeingly over his guest's shoulder. "I'll talk to the Minister," he said finally, coming to a decision. "I can't guarantee anything but I'll present him the same argument you did me."

Niall nodded. "That's all I ask for," he said, standing up and nodding respectfully. "You have my number when you have an answer."

"I do," Harry confirmed, standing up in a mark of respect for his guest.

"In that case my work here is done," Niall said simply. "Have a good day, Harry, and as always a pleasure talking to you."

"You too," Harry replied quietly as Niall McGin walked out the door, quickly leaving Harry behind to puzzle over his dilemma.

* * *

"We are sure that the insurgents are after the complete overhaul of the Bolivian government," Kingsley said as he sat with the Minister and Amos in the Minister's office. "They are believed to be receiving supplies from other protest groups from Peru, Paraguay, Chile; all neighbouring countries."

"All the neighbouring countries?" the Minister asked. "Including Argentina and Brazil. I was under the impression that both countries had strong conflicts with rebel groups. These same groups are harming their own cause for the benefit of another countries'?"

"It's hard to believe, I know," Kingsley agreed. "But that's what our most recent intelligence suggests. We believe that they may make Bolivia a launching point from where other rebel groups can fight to overthrow their own democratically elected governments."

"This intelligence," the Minister said. "How recent is this?"

"Accurate as of two hours ago," Kingsley replied. "We've been studying satellite images which show several meetings taking place along the Bolivian border. Weapons trades being made with what we presume to be representatives from Peru and Chile based on geographical location."

The Minister nodded in acceptance of the information. "What do you suggest we do?" the Minister asked, his voice calmer than he'd expected.

"Right now, nothing," Kingsley replied in his normal melodious tone. "The Bolivian government already receives a lot of aid from the Ministry of the United States, who are undoubtedly reading the same information that we are now."

"What about the other South American countries?" the Minister asked. "The Argentinian Ministry is still weak and receives very little aid. That isn't to say anything of the Peruvian Ministry."

"They aren't targets as far as we know," Kingsley informed him. "If anything these countries could benefit from rebel groups supplying the Bolivians with their resources."

"So we do nothing?" the Minister asked. "That's always a good idea."

"We do nothing until we know what we're dealing with," Kingsley responded. "When we start to see events unfold we'll meet again and then we can decide on an appropriate course of action."

"Okay," the Minister conceded, nodding reluctantly. "We'll sit and wait. Thanks for speaking to me Kingsley."

"Thank you Minister," Kingsley replied smartly, taking that as his cue to leave the room. Once gone there was silence, the two men present left with their worried thoughts.

"Do you think this is the right thing to do?" the Minister asked Amos sadly. "I've always felt previous Ministers have been too keen to send men to another country but it's different when you hear it said like that."

"Trust Kingsley," Amos told him simply. "He's been in this job a long time, he knows what to do in this situation."

The Minister sighed. "I know," he agreed. "It just doesn't sit well for me for us to just sit here and do nothing."

"We're not doing nothing, we're running a country," Amos told him. "We've got enough on our plate as it is, let Kingsley deal with this."

The Minister looked at his old friend. "You're right," he admitted tiredly. "You usually are." There was silence as they reached the natural end of the conversation, neither knowing what to say next. "Amos, we need to talk about rehab."

"No, Minister, don't," Amos said firmly, shaking his head at his boss. "I'm not going to talk about it."

"Amos," the Minister complained but Amos was adamant.

"I'm coping, I'm fine, there's nothing to talk about," Amos said firmly, his tone quickly putting an end to the matter as they fell into silence.

"Sir," Daphne said from the doorway, gaining the attention of the Minister as she broke the silence. "Harry's here to see you."

The Minister nodded. "Send him in," he called and soon Harry was walking into the room, looking slightly nervous as he walked towards the Minister. "What have you got for me, Harry?" the Minister asked.

"A proposal," Harry said. "I've just got out from a meeting with Niall McGin."

"The LGBT guy?" the Minister asked, to which Harry nodded. "What did he want?"

Harry took a deep, uneven breath, before answering the question. "He wants Charlie to speak at a gay rights rally," Harry told him, dreading the response he was going to get.

"What?!" the Minister thundered. "He wants to force my son into promoting his cause? I had assumed that after Charlie had come out to the public it would decrease the hassle he would get, not increase it. What was McGin even thinking?"

"Sir, it's not an unreasonable suggestion," Harry said loudly, desperate to head off the Minister's rant before he could get into full flow.

The Minister paused, regarding Harry carefully. "I trust you Harry," the Minister said softly. "I trust your judgement. That's why I'm going to give you one minute to plead your case before I kick you out of my office."

Harry gulped slightly but held his ground. "Minister, McGin isn't forcing Charlie to do anything," Harry told him sincerely. "He's asking him if he would, and he's allowing us to be the ones to ask him. He's promised not to talk to Charlie unless he says yes. This is about giving Charlie the opportunity to speak if he wants, no pressure, no responsibilities, he can make whatever decision he chooses. And if McGin goes after him if he says no, then I'll be right alongside you in having him thrown in Azkaban."

The Minister was silent for a moment, looking at Harry with an unreadable expression. Glancing at his watch, he looked bemusedly up at Harry. "Well argued," he complimented softly, causing Harry to let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "McGin has promised to leave Charlie alone if he says no?"

"He's sincere," Harry told him. "I talked to him face to face. All he wants is not to let an opportunity go by if Charlie wants to speak."

The Minister nodded. "What do you think I should do?" he asked simply.

"Well," Harry said, starting to get comfortable with the fact that the Minister was not going to get angry. "I think you should tell Charlie this opportunity is available if he wants to do it. Tell him there is no pressure either way and that it's his decision. Then tell me what he wants and I'll call Niall."

The Minister nodded in agreement. "I'll call Charlie tonight," he announced. "His shift finishes at eight so he won't be available right now."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Minister," he said as he turned to leave.

"Wait," the Minister said suddenly, causing him to halt in his tracks. "There's something I want to speak to everyone about, please stay here." Harry nodded, turning back to face the Minister.

"Daphne," the Minister called, Daphne immediately appearing in the doorway. "Get the rest of the Senior Staff to my office as soon as possible." Daphne nodded and left the room, leaving the three men alone.

"So," Harry said, glancing nervously at Amos. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Amos replied simply, showing no emotion as he answered the question.

"Are you sure?" Harry probed further. "I mean, it's your first day back at work, undoubtedly you're not at your best."

"Harry, I told you, I'm fine," Amos repeated steadily, keeping his face an emotionless mask.

"I'm not sure I believe that," Harry countered, staring down his superior as he looked for a spark of the old Amos. "I believe you are hiding from us behind this businesslike facade."

"Harry," the Minister said warningly but Harry pressed on.

"What are you feeling, Amos?" Harry demanded from him. "Tell me how you feel."

"Not now," Amos snapped, the first emotion he'd shown in the conversation. "This is neither the time nor the place."

"Then what is?" Harry asked earnestly, catching Amos unawares with the change of pace. Amos was spared from answering as Ron strode into the room, closely followed by Hermione and Neville.

"What's going on?" Ron asked without any preamble.

"A situation has arisen in South America," the Minister answered. "Has anyone seen Remus?" But the Minister's question was almost immediately answered as Remus hurried into the room.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Remus said, panting slightly. "I was in a meeting with Stuart Ainsworth."

"That's not a problem Remus," the Minister replied, allowing Remus to catch his breath. "Now, the thing I wish to speak to you today is of the highest security," he warned them. "No one outside of us and the Auror Office shall know of this until we choose otherwise." His staff nodded seriously, quickly realising the importance of what he was about to say.

"Two hours ago our Auror Office picked up images through satellite of rebel groups in Bolivia trading for weapons from representatives of Peru and Chile," the Minister announced to the silent room. "There is reason to believe that aid for this rebel group, the Orgullo Latino, or Latin Pride, is also being provided by other such groups in Brazil, Paraguay and Argentina."

"While we cannot be sure of why there was been such a strong collaboration between these groups, and why they are targeting American aided Bolivia, we can say that they are up to something."

"What are we doing?" Neville asked quietly.

"Nothing," the Minister replied heavily. "Without knowing the aims of the Orgullo Latino we cannot act responsibly. Kingsley has recommended that we wait and watch for any signs of activity, and I agree."

"Do we know how many weapons this rebel group have?" Harry asked. "How many transactions are we aware of?"

"Undoubtedly we are not aware of many of the transactions that are taking place," Amos answered on the Minister's behalf. "But given the ones we are aware of it's not creating a very good picture."

"What sort of situation are the Bolivian government in?" Ron asked, addressing the Minister. "You said they are supported by the American Ministry."

"They are," the Minister told him. "The Bolivian Ministry is seen as one of the stronger in South America, although not to the same level as Brazil or Uruguay. These deals on the other hand could be a sign that they aren't as strong as we believe."

"But we are doing nothing?" Hermione asked.

"We are doing nothing," the Minister confirmed. "Kingsley will keep a look out, I just wanted all of you to know about the situation before anything big started to happen. You should get back to work."

The staffers nodded and started to leave, each of them moving around with a sort of depressed air to their step, talking quietly to each other and frowning as they stepped out of the office. As the last one left the Minister let out a tired sigh, doubts starting to creep back into his mind.

"You are doing the right thing," Amos told him, knowing what he was thinking. "You are deferring to Kingsley's better judgement, and that's what you're supposed to do."

The Minister grimaced. "I know," he admitted quietly, leaning back in his seat, his arms set upon his armrests. Letting out a long breath, he turned his gaze to Amos. "You didn't answer his question."

"Who's question?" Amos asked but the Minister wasn't so easily fooled.

"You know what I'm talking about," he told him, his tone warning him not to deny it. "Harry's question, do you have an answer to it?"

Amos looked away, his eyes turned to the ground as he avoided the Minister's gaze. "No," he admitted quietly, his voice barely even carrying to the Minister seated a few feet away. "No, I don't know when I can talk about it."

The Minister nodded in acceptance. "You're talking to a psychiatrist, aren't you," he said, to which Amos nodded. "Then I'm not worried," the Minister continued, surprising Amos into looking at him.

"You're not?" Amos asked in surprise, so close to admitting that he was.

"No, I'm not," the Minister confirmed. "I know you'll be able to talk about this soon. And when you find you are ready to speak I'll be here, ready to listen."

"Thank you sir," Amos said gratefully.

The Minister nodded. "I say this now because there's a big chance this business in Bolivia blows into something big," he told him. "You may find your patience tested and it may be more difficult than ever to stop yourself from reaching for a drink. But remember, I'm here for you. And so are those five people who've just left my office."

"Thank you Minister," Amos said softly, the support being shown to him becoming overwhelming.

"I'll see you later, Amos," the Minister told him, signalling that it was time to go. Standing up Amos left the office, walking into his own office and closing the door behind him. Watching him go, the Minister stared at the closed door before rising to his feet, knowing his break was over and there was work to be done.

* * *

"He really asked you to do that?" Hermione asked in amazement, leaning forward across the table as she listened to Harry's story over the noise of the club's music.

"Yeah," Harry told her. "And lets face it, you can't blame him. This is a golden opportunity to improve the way people in our society view gay people."

"The Minister would never go for it," Hermione countered, brushing her hair over her shoulder, briefly admiring the bouncing curls she'd spent so much time working on for the night out.

"The Minister would never allow us to tell Charlie to do this," Harry told her. "What he would agree to is asking if Charlie wanted to do it."

Hermione looked at him in amazement. "You've already brought this to the Minister?" she asked in surprise. "I can't imagine that conversation went well."

Harry shrugged. "The Minister's a reasonable man," he replied. "He overreacted at first but he calmed down and really listened to what I had to say. He agreed to allow Charlie to do it if he wanted to."

"Has he asked him yet?" Hermione asked, catching the expression on Harry's face. "He has. What did Charlie say?"

Harry glanced round to make sure no one was listening before leaning forward towards Hermione. "He's not going to do the rally," Harry told her. "He _is_ going to do an interview for the Daily Prophet about it. We're still in the early stages but I can imagine he'll get a nice column with Michael to get his message across."

"That's very brave of him," Hermione commented. "I can't imagine how difficult it must be to have his private life spread across the nation just because his father is famous."

"You can't?" Harry asked in surprise. "You work for the Minister, your private life is out there for anyone to see." Hermione shrugged, taking a drink as she looked around the room. "See anyone you like?"

Hermione's eyes shot to him. "What did you just say?" she asked sharply, her eyes narrowed.

"The people here," Harry said, gesturing to the club as a whole. "Is there anyone around here that you think you might like to talk to?"

Hermione blushed. "I don't know," she said bashfully. "I'm not very good at approaching guys. I get all nervous and I start rambling and-"

"You do this," Harry finished for her, causing her to blush even more. "What about that guy by the counter," he suggested, pointing to a tall dark headed man drinking a beer by the bar. "He seems fairly attractive and it doesn't seem as though he came with a girl."

"I can't just go up to a guy," Hermione complained.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "Hermione, you look fantastic. Any guy would absolutely love it if you walked up to them and started flirting with them right now."

"I've never approached a guy before," Hermione admitted. "And I'm not very good at flirting."

"If you just have a go you might find you're better than you think," Harry told her, egging her on. "What was it that you said was your new year's resolution, try new things? Go ahead, try talking to a guy."

"Okay," Hermione grudgingly gave in. "But I'm only doing it for you."

Harry laughed as Hermione got up from the table and approached the guy, gently tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. Watching, Harry couldn't help but let his mind stray back to new year's resolutions as he saw Hermione and the mysterious man talk, the man clearly interested in what Hermione had to offer.

"Excuse me," a soft voice said as a body moved across his field of vision, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Is anyone sitting there?" The woman standing before him gave him a beautiful smile, her hair stylishly pulled back to emphasise her beautiful porcelain features.

"No, my friend is elsewhere," Harry told her, smiling at her as she took the seat, her smile fixed as she continued to study him.

"My name's Michelle," the woman introduced herself smoothly, tilting her head slightly to the side to expose her beautifully long neck. "I'm sorry to intrude on your time but you looked a bit lonely on your own."

"I'm fine, thanks," Harry said with a smile. "I was just thinking of leaving actually."

"Why don't you stay?" Michelle suggested, gently placing a hand upon his on the table. "I'd love to get to know you better."

The smile on Harry's face never wavered as he caught on to what she was doing. Gently, Harry took hold of her hand and placed it on the wooden surface of the table, pulling his hand out of range. "I'm sorry," he said politely at her surprised expression. "While I'm sure you're a wonderful person I'm already in a relationship."

The smile on Michelle's face dropped quickly. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she mumbled, looking away from him, her very presence reeking of embarrassment. Watching her sit there, Harry couldn't help but take pity on her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that I've been with my girlfriend for over two years now. I live with her and I couldn't imagine being with anyone else. I love her." Michelle sniffed slightly. "But I promise you," Harry continued. "If I were single there is nothing more I'd have liked better than to sit here and talk to you."

Michelle sniffed again, although a small smile graced her face. "Thank you," she said softly, smiling at him. "That was a really nice thing to say. And I'm sorry for hitting on you."

"Don't worry about it," Harry waved away, glancing at the bar to see Hermione fully engulfed in her conversation. "It was flattering. Now I'm afraid I should really get going, now that my friend has gotten elsewhere."

"Wait," Michelle said as Harry rose to his feet. "You haven't even told me your name."

"It's Harry," Harry told her with a smile. "It's been nice meeting you."

"You too, Harry," Michelle smiled back as Harry, with one last glance at the animated discussion between Hermione and the man at the bar, left the club.

* * *

"Good morning, Hermione," Harry delighted, his feet resting on top of her desk as she entered her office, giving him a frustrated look. "You look absolutely radiant this morning, you look like you've had a good night's rest."

"Shut up, you," Hermione told him, shoving his feet off her desk and gesturing for him to get out of her seat, to which he complied. "You're hardly one to talk on the subject."

Harry shrugged. "You had sex last night, I didn't," he grinned. "It's been a long time since I could last say that."

"Yes, because you're in a fully committed relationship and I'm not," Hermione told him sternly. "Anyway, how can you assume anything happened last night?"

Harry chuckled. "Hermione, the signs are all there," he told her. "After all these years I can read you like a book. I was even able to tell when you first lost your virginity."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "No, you weren't," she denied, shaking her head in disbelief.

"May 15th…" Harry started before Hermione quickly hushed him down, glancing fearfully to the open door of her office.

"Don't say that around here," she hissed at him, her eyes panicky.

"Hermione, relax," Harry said soothingly, dropping his joking expression. "I was just teasing you." He paused as she started to calm, her breathing starting to become more even as she recovered from her near hyperventilation. "So, the guy at the bar?" Harry asked seriously. "How was he?"

Hermione hesitated. "He was nice," she said uneasily, her gaze shifting suspiciously. "It's just… well, he wasn't the guy I went home with."

Harry's eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise. "Hermione," Harry intoned in awe, incredibly impressed by his friend.

"Hey Harry, Hermione," Ron said as he strolled into the office. "What are we talking about?"

"Hermione got with two guys last night," Harry said with a grin as Hermione desperately tried to stop him from saying anything. "Hermione actually really wanted to talk to you about it," Harry continued, barely stifling a laugh as he left the room, leaving behind a stunned Ron and a mortified Hermione.

After a brief's moment silence Ron cleared his throat loudly. "Em," he started, lost for words. "What Harry just said, how much of that was true?"

Hermione sighed in disappointment. "Harry and I went to a club last night," she told Ron reluctantly. "I talked to a guy for a bit and then I, eh, went home with another one."

Ron didn't say anything, his face showing complete bewilderment at what Hermione had just told him. "Eh, good for you," he stammered out eventually. "Yeah, that's… good."

Hermione bit her lip as Ron seemed to struggle to decide what to do, torn between coming and going.

"The guy," he said suddenly, still standing awkwardly in a half turned away stance. "Was he… nice?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose so," she answered quietly. "I'm not going to see him again so… it really doesn't matter."

Ron nodded to himself, still standing still in her office. Without another word Ron walked off, leaving behind a depressed Hermione alone behind her desk.

* * *

"Neville, is Amos still in?" Harry asked as he strolled down the corridor, catching Neville at a cross in the corridors.

"He was when I went to see him ten minutes ago," Neville answered, his attention focused on the papers in his arms. "He's only doing a half day so he's set me up with all this additional paper work to be done."

"Do you know when his half day is going to end?" Harry asked as he checked his watch, noting that it was nearly midday.

Neville shrugged. "Could mean anything," he answered unhelpfully as he made his way towards his office. "Just go and check if he's still there."

Harry walked off as Neville walked into his office, striding quickly in the hopes that he hadn't missed Amos. Reaching the office in a matter of seconds Harry strode into the room, stopping sharply as he found himself facing Amos across the desk.

"Yes?" Amos asked with a raised eyebrow, holding open a file in his hands as he looked up at him.

"Um, I've finished that report you asked me to do for tonight," Harry said after a brief pause, remembering why he'd been in such a hurry to reach him. "I've sent the report over to Luna."

"I've got it," Amos confirmed, tilting the file in his hand to show him its contents.

"I just wanted to ask if there was anything you might want to ask me which wasn't made clear in the report," Harry told him.

Amos looked thoughtfully into space for a moment. "Nope," he said simply, looking back to Harry. "Everything was made very clear, although I did send a copy on for Remus to have a look at so he might have a few questions."

"I'll go see him then," Harry accepted, turning to leave.

"Harry," Amos called to him, stopping him from leaving the office. "I'd just like to say something before you go," he said, motioning for him to come back inside. "Close the door."

Harry did as he was instructed before standing in front of the desk, waiting patiently for Amos to speak.

"I owe you an apology," Amos said heavily, looking down at his desk. "My behaviour in the Minister's office was uncalled for. I do appreciate the concern you and the others have for my well being, it's just hard to accept it when you know that it is your fault."

Harry nodded in understanding, keeping quiet as he sensed there was more Amos wished to say.

Amos let out a long suffering sigh. "If there's anything…" he started softly. "Anything you want to ask me, about my rehab, then please feel free to do so now."

Harry remained quiet, staring at Amos as his mind whirled with questions he wished to have answered. But, looking at Amos sat before him, bracing himself for whatever Harry might say, he knew he couldn't do it.

"No," he said simply, surprising Amos. "You're not ready. I'm not going to ask you any questions until you are ready to tell me. Then, I'll listen to your answer."

Amos nodded at that, thankful for Harry's consideration in the matter. With a sigh he caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall behind Harry's back and his thoughts refocused.

"It's time for me to go," Amos said, standing up and pulling his cloak over his shoulders. "I've got a meeting… a psychiatric meeting which I need to get to."

Harry nodded in understanding, standing to the side to allow Amos to make his way to the door. "Actually, I have one question," he said suddenly, stopping Amos in his tracks.

"What is it?" Amos asked, standing in the doorway to his office.

"What's your new year's resolutions?" Harry asked seriously, watching Amos carefully for an answer.

A small smile crossed Amos's face. "To tell you the truth, Harry, I don't have one," he admitted gazing into space. "But if I were to have one, I suppose I would promise to stop hiding from the people who want to help me."

Harry said nothing as Amos wished him a good day and left the room, leaving Harry standing alone in the Chief of Staff's office. For several minutes he did nothing, standing in some sort of a daze, before finally reality caught up to him and he walked out into the hall and back into his working day.

* * *

"No, don't worry about it," Harry assured on one end of the phone. "Enjoy your evening in Paris, I'll just catch up on work until you get back."

"I don't want you to be working while I'm enjoying myself," Ginny said on the other end of the phone, sounding disappointed. "I really miss you, even Paris is unable to stop me from thinking about you."

Harry smiled. "You've been thinking about me?" he said fondly. "In Paris? Well maybe one day we'll go visit the city together."

"You better believe it," came Ginny's response, causing Harry's grin to grow wider. "Then I'll be able to spend my time in the city of love with the one I love." Harry had to smile at the corny line. "How are things at work? Have you missed me?"

"More than anything," Harry said honestly. "I'm looking at some papers on inheritance tax and all I can think of doing is throw them in the shredder so I can come home." Harry paused, his face turning more serious. "I spoke to Amos today."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. "How did it go?" Ginny asked softly, her breath echoing in Harry's ear. "Was it better than yesterday?"

Harry snorted. "It's hard to be worse than yesterday," he replied humourlessly. "He wasn't mad at me this time. He even spoke to me, properly this time."

"What did he say?" Ginny asked, listening intently.

"He apologised to me," Harry replied, his voice slightly higher than usual. "He told me he was out of line and apologised."

"And?" Ginny questioned, expecting more.

"He offered to answer any questions I had," Harry told her. "About his rehab."

"Really?" Ginny gasped in amazement.

"I turned him down," Harry informed her. "When he's ready he'll tell me how he feels. Until that point he has professionals who are paid to make him better." Harry chuckled after a second, a memory tickling his brain.

"What's so funny?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"I did actually ask him one question," Harry said, stopping to let out another chuckle. "I asked if he had a new year's resolution. He doesn't, by the way, and he seems fine with it."

There was quiet on the other end of the phone. "You've been talking about new year's resolutions a lot recently."

"I admit I've mentioned it a couple of times," Harry said warily.

"A couple of times to me, that is," Ginny responded. "I spoke with Luna this morning and she told me you've been asking around at the Ministry for the last two days."

Harry chuckled nervously. "Okay, I admit, I've gotten a little obsessed over it," Harry said with some self deprecating humour. "It's just been stuck in my head. Everyone has one except for me… and Amos as it happens."

"Still stuck?" Ginny asked, half mockingly half compassionately. "You're a speech writer, I'd have thought you'd have tons of ideas."

"I do," Harry told her, running a hand through his hair. "It's just that none of my ideas are right for me. I know there are things in my life I can improve on but I don't know what exactly."

"Do you want my advice?" Ginny offered, to which Harry quickly affirmed. "You should make it so that you do something new, or perhaps something you used to do but stopped for some reason. The new year is all about renewal, either of something you used to do or starting something completely new."

Harry was silent as Ginny finished speaking, pondering her words carefully.

"Do you want to know what Luna suggested?" Ginny asked, prompting Harry to laugh.

"Go on," he told her.

"She thinks that the reason you can't choose is that you are followed by a tribe of wrackspurts wherever you go."

Harry continued to chuckle. "Oh dear Luna," he chortled. "How did she get such a high ranking government role?"

"She's good at what she does," Ginny pointed out in answer to his rhetorical question.

"That's true," Harry agreed, checking his watch as one eye scanned the files littering his desk. "Listen, I've got to get back to work. Have fun in Paris."

"I will," Ginny responded. "I'll see you later tonight, and don't be late. I've got a special little surprise for you."

"Is this the special little surprise you told me you bought yesterday?" Harry asked with a slightly lustful grin.

"Very little," Ginny whispered teasingly down the phone, causing Harry to emit a low growl.

"Careful," he warned her. "Any more talk like that and I might just fly over to France and sweep you off your feet."

"I wouldn't be particularly opposed to that idea," Ginny flirted back, blowing a kiss down the phone. "See you tonight. Love you."

"Love you too," Harry replied as the line went dead. Harry sat completely still, smiling as he savoured the feelings he was holding, before eventually placing the phone down on his desk. Moving over to his reports Harry paused, his hand hovering between his paper and the phone. With a frown Harry made his decision, picking up his phone again and punching in another number, quickly holding the phone to his ear as it rang.

"Hi, it's Harry."

* * *

"Amos, good to see you," the psychiatrist, Raymond Frank, greeted as Amos walked into the room, shaking his hand warmly and gesturing to a seat. "How are you doing?"

"Good," Amos answered, nodding his head as he glanced around the room before taking his seat. "I assume that is good news."

Raymond chuckled. "Definitely," he answered. "But I'm not willing to stop these sessions until I am one hundred percent sure that your mental stability is in balance."

"You really know how to flatter a guy," Amos commented dryly, leaning forward to pick up a glass of water.

"Yes, I do," Raymond replied with a winning smile. "Now Amos, why don't you tell me what your day has been like."

Amos took a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he began the exercise. "It began pretty slow," he commented. "I didn't really have any work to do until my ten o'clock meeting. After that I read multiple reports about agriculture, Ministry workforce, things I'm not allowed to tell you about as well."

"Well, that's what you did," Raymond said, following a familiar pattern to their meetings. "Now tell me about the people you talked to during the day."

Amos frowned. "I spoke with my Senior Assistant, Luna Lovegood a couple of times that morning as she brought in reports."

"Anything interesting?" Raymond asked.

"Very," Amos responded. "But Luna is an unusual girl, which often makes her interesting in and of itself."

"And your ten o'clock meeting?" Raymond asked. "May I ask who was part of that meeting."

"The Minister of Magic," Amos answered. "The Deputy Chief of Staff, the Communications Director and the Press Secretary."

"Not Ron Weasley or Remus Lupin?" Raymond asked, interested to see where this line of questioning could lead him.

"They were tied up in another meeting," Amos informed him. "I spoke with Remus not long after the meeting, although I didn't see Ron. The Minister called me into his office and then Harry saw me just before I came here."

"The Minister called you in?" Raymond questioned. "Was there any special reason?"

"He wished to brief me," Amos informed him. "Or rather he wished for Kingsley Shacklebolt to brief me about a situation I am not permitted to share with you."

Raymond thought about it for a second, then dropped it. "This meeting with Harry?" he questioned instead. "It wasn't planned?"

Amos shook his head. "Harry had a report he had sent to me and he wanted to know if I had any questions for him," Amos said. "We had a bit of a conversation and then I left."

Raymond's attention was piqued. "You left?" he asked. "Harry didn't?" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "What exactly did this conversation consist of?"

Amos took his time to answer, wondering what he should and should not say. "We were talking about new year's resolutions," Amos told the psychiatrist, frowning slightly. "He asked if I had one and I said I didn't, although if I did it would be not to hide from my friends."

Amos's thoughtfulness distracted his attention, so much so that he never noticed the small smile flit across Raymond Frank's face.

* * *

Harry slipped his way quietly through the patrons of the pub, winding his way towards a small booth where two men sat talking, drinks already set out in front of them.

"Harry," Seamus cheered, spotting Harry first and bringing him to Dean's attention. "Mate, you owe me a drink. I hope you hadn't forgotten that."

"Don't worry, I hadn't," Harry promised as he reached the booth, slipping in gratefully. "I was just playing hard to get."

Seamus barked out a laugh. "Ain't I used to that," he chortled, elbowing Dean good-naturedly in the ribs. "Say, on that note, how's the misses? You two still together, cause if you aren't you really have to give me her number."

Harry laughed. "Tough luck Seamus," he said. "We've actually moved in together now so she's definitely not on the market."

"Damn," Seamus cursed theatrically. "If only there were other attractive women related to the Ministry."

"Here we go," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"I think I can see where this is going," Harry laughed. "Who'd you have your eye on, Seamus?"

"Well, you know I keep my eye on quite a number of talented women," Seamus told him seriously, causing Dean to choke on his drink. "I was watching this show and there was this pretty little blonde on. She was an assistant or something."

"Lizzie," Harry guessed, getting an affirmative reply. "Tough luck mate, she's taken."

Seamus sighed theatrically. "Seriously, you know anyone who might be interested?" he asked, taking swig from his glass.

"Well," Harry said thoughtfully. "I think Demelza might be free. Brunette, about 5-6…"

"She's the one that stands in on the press conferences, isn't she," Seamus said excitedly. "I've been to the Ministry a couple of times and she's always seemed interested in me."

"So you want me to set you up?" Harry asked.

"I would forever be in your debt," Seamus crowed dramatically. "In fact, keep your money, the next round's on me." Harry laughed as Seamus charged headfirst through the maze of small tables as he made his way to the bar, patrons parting as he sped through.

"That made Seamus's day," Dean chuckled as they watched Seamus go. "I swear he may say he's cutting down on chocolate, but I'm sure his real new year's resolution is to score with even more girls than he did last year."

"Is that even possible?" Harry asked in amusement.

"If anyone can do it it's Seamus," Dean replied with a shrug. "Anyway," he said, turning to focus his full attention on Harry. "Why did you want to meet us?"

"For a drink," Harry answered simply. "Although I do need to get back home at some point, Ginny's got a surprise for me."

"Well, let's just thank god Seamus didn't hear you say that," Dean replied. "He wouldn't stop with the innuendoes all night." He glanced at Harry's face. "Why did you meet us?"

Harry sighed, glancing around the crowded pub. "You," he said simply. "Are my new year's resolution."

"What?" Dean said, completely confused.

"I don't spend time with you, at all," Harry said. "You're my friend but it's been ages since we last had the chance to sit down for a drink."

Dean sat back in his chair, regarding Harry interestedly. "That's your new year's resolution?" he said simply. "I'm honoured."

Harry smiled. "Thank you."


	12. Bolivia

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

 **A/N:** Before we begin the chapter I would like to put up a quick warning that there are mentions of things of a disturbing nature in this chapter. It is not graphic but I felt it only right to put a warning beforehand.

Saying that I hope you enjoy the chapter.

* * *

"Morning Cho," Harry greeted as he strode towards his office, head immersed in the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet as he munched on an apple whilst walking.

"Morning Harry," Cho greeted as Harry stopped by her desk, finishing his apple and chucking the remains into the bin. "Your 9:15 is on his way, he had a brief meeting with Neville before. Your 9:40 is still on but you'll have to take him in Meeting Room 3. Your 10 o'clock cancelled-"

"Why?" Harry cut in as Cho read through his schedule.

"His daughter fell ill and so he's taking her to St Mungo's," Cho answered. "He asked if you could schedule him in for another day and left me his number."

Harry nodded to himself. "See if you can schedule him in tomorrow," he told his assistant. "And make sure to send my best wishes for his daughter's health."

"Will do," Cho responded, quickly checking through his schedule to look for any available slots. "You've got a fair few appointments throughout the day, I've left a preliminary schedule on your desk."

"Before or after the cancellation?" Harry asked.

"Before," Cho admitted. "That's why I told you now. Don't worry about missing anything, I'll call you when you've got a meeting."

Harry nodded again. "Great, is that everything?"

"Let me see," Cho murmured, examining her desk and picking up a scrap piece of parchment. "Oh, just one more thing. Warlock Woods called and asked if it was possible to meet with you today."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "David Woods?" he questioned in surprise. "I wonder what he wants."

"So shall I schedule him in?" Cho asked, a quill at the ready.

"See if you can get him in for 10 o'clock," Harry told her, setting her scribbling it down and reaching for the phone. "I wonder what he could want to talk about with such short notice," he mused to himself as Cho placed the call.

He was brought out of his introspective thoughts as Ron's office door opened and a tall, confident looking dark haired man walked out. "Harry," he greeted politely as he passed.

"Mike," Harry responded on reflex, completely taken by surprise by the man's appearance in the Ministry. Mike didn't stop to explain either, instead walking briskly past the stunned Communications Director and towards the lifts, quickly disappearing from sight.

Harry stared after him, completely still and silent, barely noticing Cho confirm his appointment with David Woods as he mulled over what the man's appearance might mean. It wasn't until he sensed movement behind him that Harry turned his attention away from the mysterious man.

"You saw him then," Ron commented from the doorway to his office.

"Yes, I saw him," Harry replied. "Question is, why did you see him?"

Ron sighed tiredly, a worrying sign for so early in the day. "He wanted to discuss the possibility of running for the Wizengamot," Ron told him.

"Seriously?" Harry questioned, taking a step closer to make sure he'd heard him right. "Mike Hardy a Warlock of the Wizengamot."

Ron shared his worried look. "That's not all either," he commented.

Harry frowned. "There's more?"

Ron glanced nervously to each side, checking to see if there was anyone listening in. Apparently not satisfied Ron gestured for Harry to follow him into his office, which Harry did.

"What's going on, Ron?" Harry questioned as Ron closed the door behind him, blocking out the sounds of work from outside.

Ron sighed. "I'm not sure how to tell you this," he said heavily, walking around his desk and taking a seat, gesturing for Harry to do the same. "Mike's not just planning to run for the Wizengamot, he's planning to run for the seat in Ashford."

There was silence for a moment as Harry took in the news. Then he laughed. "Seriously," he choked out. "He's trying to get elected in Ashford? He does realise that's David Woods's constituency?"

"I'm sure he does," Ron said but Harry just continued talking.

"Seriously, he thinks he's got a chance? Does he not realise that David has won that seat with about 70% of the vote? For three consecutive elections? The last time David was ever really challenged for that seat was when Pete Morris was still alive, and he was a local hero and still couldn't beat him."

"I know all this Harry," Ron spoke up with no small amount of annoyance in his voice. "And I told Mike just what you just said to me. But he's confident Harry, I don't know why but he is. He thinks he's going to win."

"He's going to get creamed," Harry said dismissively.

"I agree, he wouldn't stand a chance against Warlock Woods," Ron commented. "But what he said, the way he said it, I just think there's more to this."

Harry's expression turned serious. "You think he's got something on the Warlock?" he questioned, suddenly alert.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know what it is," he complained. "I just know there was something, something beneath his words that I couldn't quite grasp. Something that tells me that he knows more about this than I do."

Harry met Ron's gaze with a steady stare, an understanding passing between them. "David called my office earlier," Harry confessed, watching Ron's eyes widen in shock. "He wanted to arrange a meeting. I've got him pencilled in for ten."

Ron nodded slowly, his face pale. "Tell me how that goes," he said quietly. Harry nodded.

They stayed there for a moment longer until a knock interrupted the silence. "Harry," Cho announced as she stepped inside. "Todd Mitchell is in your office."

Harry turned to her slowly, before giving her a short nod. "I'll be right through," he told her, his tone signalling for her to leave, which she did, closing the door behind her. Turning back to Ron he got to his feet.

"It's that time of year, isn't it," he commented as he brushed down his robes. "The Wizengamot elections. I just wish they'd hold off a bit longer." Reaching the door, Harry glanced back at Ron. "I'll talk to you later."

Ron gave a short nod and, after a moments stillness, Harry opened the door and left the room, leaving Ron alone with his thoughts. Turning his attention away from the space Harry had just occupied his eyes allowed themselves to rest upon a large map of the British Isles, plastered on his wall with a sticking charm. Getting out of his seat Ron approached the map slowly, admiring it as his eyes scanned across the multiple constituencies projected. Slowly his eyes came to rest on Ashford, in the region of Kent, currently displayed as a grey box. With a glance at the still open doorway and with a heavy heart Ron raised his wand and tapped the block, causing it to glow red. Ashford was in play.

* * *

"Everyone, sit down," the Minister commanded as he walked into the situation room, all those inside having risen to their feet as one. "Of all places to waste time on this honorary action this is perhaps the worst. Kingsley, what's going on?"

"There has been an escalation in Bolivia," Kingsley announced, a map of the South American country projected onto the wall behind him. "On a regular patrol of the border between Bolivia and Peru US forces encountered Peruvian and Bolivian natives exchanging arms not far from the town of Desaguadero. Upon discovery the rebels attacked and the Americans responded in kind, killing most of the group whilst a few were able to successfully flee before apparition wards could be set up."

"How many Americans were killed," the Minister asked seriously, examining the map from his spot at the head of the table. "How many were critically injured?"

"There were two casualties to the American troops," Kingsley responded. "And a further two were rushed to a nearby medical facility and are now stable, although there are plans to transport them back to the US for further treatment."

"And the Bolivians," the Minister continued. "We're sure these were part of the rebel forces? We're confident this wasn't just a breakdown in communications?"

"Yes sir," Kingsley replied. "After the conflict American soldiers searched the rebels for any information that may prove useful and discovered that several held the Mark of Campo, a popular symbol for the rebel groups across South America."

The Minister nodded, trying to fight down the sickly feeling in his stomach as they continued to discuss the incident. "Did they find anything?"

"No documentation on their persons," Kingsley told him. "No to do lists, no diaries, nothing to clue us in to what might be planned, if for that matter anything is planned."

"What about weapons?" Amos asked. "What sort of cargo were they dealing with?"

"Mostly muggle weapons," Kingsley replied. "Shotguns mainly, a few machine guns, nothing particularly advanced-"

"Hold up a minute," the Minister cut in, sitting up straighter in his chair. "Mostly muggle weapons? There were non-muggle weapons there too?"

Kingsley hesitated. "Crudely designed and constructed magic bombs," he answered.

"A magic bomb, when detonated, temporary causes such a fluctuation in a persons magic that for an average of three minutes they are essentially powerless," Amos explained to the Minister. "When thrown the magic bomb affects all those within a five meter radius and has an increased effect on those with greater magical power, essentially turning their own strength against them."

"American experts have had a look at these attempts and have come to the conclusion that the magic bombs discovered would not have the desired effect," Kingsley said in an attempt to assure the Minister. "At best these bombs would have no more effect than a muggle grenade, except with less explosive force and perhaps the ability to slightly alter the control of their magic anyone in the vicinity might have."

"Should we be worried?" the Minister asked. "Is there any suggestion that the rebels have better magic bombs elsewhere?"

"We don't think it's likely, sir," Kingsley replied. "Although we can't altogether rule it out. This is the first time we've ever been able to get our hands on the weapons being traded so it's the only indication of the rebels' strength that we currently have available."

The Minister was silent for a while, quietly taking it all in. "Okay," he said softly. "Okay."

Noticing the Minister was staying quiet Amos decided to ask a question. "What's the state of Bolivia at the moment?"

"Stable," one of the men at the table, a specialist in South American communications. "Beyond the weapons dealings it appears as though Bolivia is just as calm and content as the Americans thought it was before these deals came to our attention."

"So what do you think that means?" the Minister asked, directing his question at Kingsley.

"We don't know," Kingsley said simply. "It could mean this attempt by the rebels is doomed for failure, it could mean there's something we're not seeing that the rebels are. It could be both."

The Minister nodded, although not looking happy at the thought. "Gentlemen," he said, rising to his feet and causing the rest of the room to do likewise. "Thank you. Please, keep me updated and if anything else happens, call me immediately."

"Yes sir," the room replied as one, the men and women staying standing as the Minister left the room at a slow walk, not sitting again until the doors had closed behind him.

* * *

"Hey, Harry, can you come in here for a moment?"

Harry paused mid-stride at the sound of the voice issuing from the office he'd just passed. Backing up a few steps Harry looked inside to see Neville sat by the desk, paper strewn everywhere in a haphazard manner around him.

"Hey Neville," Harry greeted cautiously, surveying the disaster sight the office seemed to have become. "What did you need?"

"Oh yeah," Neville said suddenly, as though he'd already forgotten why he'd called Harry in. "Yeah, I was just looking over the latest draft of the foreign aid bill. Article 7 subsection b-"

"Neville," Harry cut in, watching the man frantically search through his papers. "Neville, we talked about this yesterday, remember. I've had it amended. You've looked over it already."

If Neville hadn't been so stressed he would have blushed as he started to remember. "Right," he muttered, starting to move again after a brief pause. "We did look at it. Yesterday. With…"

"Amos," Harry supplied, still watching Neville with concern. "Hey, Neville, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Neville answered quickly before seeming to take a second to slow himself down. "It's just that it's Valentine's Day," he waved off. "I'm taking Alea out to a fancy restaurant so I've got to make sure I've got everything sorted before I leave."

"Do you need some help?" Harry offered, eyes scanning the desk. "I could take some of this off your hands."

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said with a relieved smile, his whole body seeming to sag as the pressure appeared to visibly lift off him. "Wait, aren't you spending the evening with Ginny?"

Harry shook his head with a grimace. "She had to work," he grumbled moodily, picking at the corner of one of Neville's papers. "We're celebrating tomorrow instead."

"Well, as long as you have the chance," Neville reasoned, trying to brighten Harry's mood. "Anyway, I've got all sorts of things around here. Bills for beef subsidies, a new energy plan, applications for Wizengamot candidacy…"

"Send those to me," Harry told him as he listened. "Ron and I are going to be looking over the board later."

"He's modified it?" Neville asked.

"He said he would." There was a brief pause as the conversation reached a natural break. "Anyway, send all that stuff over to my office and I'll take care of it. I've got a meeting right now."

"Have fun," Neville said, turning back down to his papers. "Oh, and thank you."

Harry nodded as he walked away, finally reaching his original destination: Meeting Room 2.

"Harry," David Woods greeted warmly, pulling himself with some effort out of his chair, leaning heavily on his cane to maintain his balance. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks David," Harry replied with a smile as he shook his hand, gesturing for the elderly Warlock to retake his seat. "Today's been about average so far, so I'm happy. No emergencies to deal with at any rate."

"Ah, but it's still early," David joked.

"One hour through the day," Harry replied with a grin. "Just ten more to go."

David laughed. "Haha, you really are something boy, you really are," he chortled. "Why, before you no-one at the Ministry would ever admit to having to work hard. They always wanted to seem superior to us mere mortals."

"The good old days of the Fudge administration," Harry agreed with a smile. "So, what can I do for you David. I must say I was rather surprised at the rather last minute call for a meeting."

"Yes, I must apologise for that," David said genially. "I've had a rather important decision to make and as such have had to spend an inordinate amount of time to ensure I choose rightly. And of course I needed to talk to you quickly, before I changed my mind."

Harry frowned, unsure of where the conversation was going. "I'm sorry, David, what was your decision?"

"August," David said, and stopped at that, seeming to have trouble deciding how best to bring up the topic. "It's about August. You know August, right?"

"I'm aware of the concept," Harry replied slowly, slightly worried at the ramblings from what he knew to be an incredibly eloquent and smart man. "Eighth month of the year, stuck between July and September, has 31 days…"

"No, not- well yes, that's all true," David replied distractedly, rubbing at his temple. "What I really was meaning was what is happening in August." There was a long silence.

"The Diagon Alley back-to-Hogwarts rush?" Harry guessed, still having no idea what they were talking about. "The start of the new Quidditch Season? What?"

David chuckled softly. "I really need to learn to be more direct," he commented drily. "It's something my wife keeps telling me, I really should learn. No, what I was actually talking about was something a bit more along our line of work."

"The elections," Harry replied, the idea suddenly clicking into place. "Wizengamot elections, 1st August. New session of the Wizengamot begins on the 15th."

"Yes, that's what I'm talking about," David said with a smile. "I've made a decision about this year's elections."

"You've got a suggestion for a candidate?" Harry asked, although from the look on David's face he had a suspicion he was wrong.

"No, it's not that," David said, his body language turning a bit more uncomfortable as he started to get to his point. "Harry, this isn't easy so I'm just going to come out and say it." There was a pause. "On the 15th August I plan to be unemployed. I'm retiring from the Wizengamot."

* * *

"The Home Economy Bill," Harry recited from memory. "A bill currently in the works to help British based companies compete with rival businesses from oversees. Set to increase not only the companies profits but the wealth of the nation as well as providing hundreds of jobs to the British citizens currently out of work. Does this ring any bells?"

"Yes," David answered calmly, planning to continue before Harry cut him off.

"Of course you've heard about it," Harry ranted, now pacing back and forth. "You're working with our legislative branch right now in order to craft this bill so we can have it submitted to a vote in the Wizengamot. You're just going to leave this?"

"Harry," David said, rolling his eyes. "You're overdramatising. The Home Economy Bill will be completed and voted on long before we reach the elections."

"What if it isn't?" Harry challenged.

"It will be."

"But what if?"

David sighed, regarding the frustrated young man before him. "Then someone else will take over from where I left off," he answered simply.

"Who?" Harry challenged again. "Who in the Wizengamot has got your leadership, your support to get a bill like this passed. Who in the Wizengamot has the drive to bring this to a vote?"

"Well, I don't know about the Wizengamot," David replied gently. "But I can imagine you'd have something to say about dropping this project."

Harry didn't say anything, knowing he couldn't argue with that logic. Pacing a couple more laps through the room Harry eventually slumped into his seat. "Why?"

David sighed, a tired old sigh which suddenly reminded him of his age. "I'm not a young man anymore," he admitted, though it pained him to do so. "My mind's still there but my body…" he trailed off sadly. "I can't continue like this."

"Is it because Mike Hardy is running in your constituency?" Harry asked suddenly, his voice sharp at the mere thought of the idea.

"No, Harry," David chuckled. "No, that's not why. I didn't even know Mike was planning to run, although I believe it's likely he decided to do so after getting wind that I might be leaving, rather than the other way around."

There was silence as they sat there, the young man sitting across from the old at very different stages in their careers. Who knows how long they sat there, in silence, but eventually they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Harry," Cho said as she cracked the door open. "The Minister would like to see the Senior Staff in his office." Harry turned slightly at the sound of her voice, taking in her words with no noticeable outward reaction.

"You should go," David told him after he refused to move. "It sounds as though the Minister needs you."

Harry nodded mechanically and rose to his feet, his mind clearly elsewhere as he stood there, perfectly still. "You'll stay?" he asked, slightly desperate as he looked down at the older man. "You'll wait for me? You won't go running off?"

David chuckled. "I promise you, I won't go 'running' off any time soon," he said, causing the lines around Harry's eyes to tighten. "I'll stay until you're finished with your meeting," he promised.

Harry let out a small breath he didn't know he'd been holding. With a single nod, he moved to the door. "Cho, could you get Warlock Woods a glass of water?" he asked her. "And…" he glanced back, noting the man's slightly wizened appearance. "And perhaps something to eat too."

"Oh please, don't bother, Cho," David said with a laugh. "I'm old, Harry, but I'm not yet totally infirm. When I need to eat I'll go visit the cafeteria. Otherwise, I'll remain right here." He hesitated slightly. "Unless of course you need the room, in that case-"

"We've got other meeting rooms free if we need them," Cho assured him, causing him to relax back in his seat.

"I'll talk to you later," Harry told him, his words sounding more like a promise as he glanced back at the Warlock one last time before closing the door behind him.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice slightly drained from the emotion of the previous conversation. "What's this meeting about?"

"They wouldn't say," Cho replied as she walked along side him. "They just asked me to get you there as soon as possible."

Harry thanked her as they split up at the Minister's outer office, where Harry was almost immediately directed through. Walking through the office doorway, making sure to close it again behind him, Harry walked in upon the Minister and the rest of the Senior Staff, waiting patiently for his arrival.

"Good, now that everyone's here," the Minister said, his voice heavy as he looked out upon them. "There's been a situation that I thought you should all hear about now before it reaches the press. There's been a coup in South America."

"Bolivia?" Neville breathed, shocked despite the fact that they'd been aware this was a possibility.

"No," the Minister replied with a sad grimace. "Peru."

The Senior Staff were stunned into silence, none of them having any idea how to respond to such an unforeseen happening.

"How?" Hermione asked, her face one of helplessness as she looked towards her leader.

"We were under the belief that neighbouring countries were supplying Bolivian rebels with arms and ammunition," the Minister told them. "What we weren't aware of was that Bolivia was not the final destination, but rather a passageway for groups in Brazil, Paraguay, Argentina, to smuggle weapons into Peru to aid with the overthrowing of their government."

The room was quiet as the Minister finished his explanation, none of them knowing how to react to the shocking news.

"I have yet to be fully briefed on the subject," the Minister informed them. "That's where I'm going now. I just thought you should be aware of this now, rather than later."

There was a quiet muttering of 'Thanks, Minister' before the room fell quiet again.

"I know this is going to be difficult for you to do, with your minds so distracted, but I need all of you to continue with your work as usual," the Minister said firmly, meeting each of their eyes. "The last thing we need now is to crumble because of something happening halfway around the world."

At that moment Blaise appeared in the doorway, signalling that it was time for the Minister to leave. Seeing this, the Minister gave one last nod to his staff before making his way out of his office. "Good luck."

The Minister walked swiftly through the halls of the Ministry, Amos following at his heels as everyone parted to let them through. They reached the situation room in no time and strode inside, quickly taking their seats at the table.

It was a mark of the severity of the situation that not everyone stood as he entered the room.

"What have you got for me Kingsley?" the Minister commanded.

"No less than twenty minutes ago rebel forces in Peru descended upon the main Ministry building in Lima, quickly overpowering the security forces and taking control of the building. It is unclear as of yet who the leader of this assault is, but it would be reasonable to predict that whoever he or she may be they will soon announce themselves as rulers of Peru now that they've removed the democratically elected Minister."

"How many casualties were there?" the Minister asked, trying not to think too much about the lives in danger as he was passed a collection of pictures taken from the scene.

"We can't tell at the moment," Kingsley answered. "We have conflicting reports, although all suggest there have been casualties, including those from higher positions in government."

"Do we have any suspicions?"

Kingsley sighed. "We believe the Health Minister is dead, as well as the Energy and Education Ministers. The Chancellor is still alive, although at this moment I don't believe he's seeing that as a positive."

"You think he's being tortured?"

"There have been reports of it, yes sir," Kingsley replied, causing a shudder to run through the room.

"And Minister Caro?" the Minister asked, dreading the answer as he saw the reaction in the room.

"Dead," Kingsley replied, his voice cold and empty. "Executed in the Town Square after being dragged out by his ankles."

"His family?" the Minister questioned.

"His son was executed with him," Kingsley answered. "His brother is in Bolivia and is currently receiving extra protection from US Armed Forces. His wife and daughter," Kingsley's breath hitched at this point, the normally unflappable man struggling to continue. "They're being held captive, and are believed to be being… raped."

There was silence in the room, all of them, even the most hardened and grizzled soldier among them, deeply affected by the news.

"Raped," the Minister repeated hollowly, his eyes focused on his hands clasped in front of him, trying to stop them from shaking as he tried to wrap his mind around what happened. "She's only twelve."

No one said anything to that remark. No one had anything to say. There was nothing that could lessen or somehow change what had happened.

Arthur continued to stare at his hands, the shaking growing more violent as, through all the pain and horror, a new emotion made itself known. Rage. Suddenly his hands were no longer shaking.

"What are our options?" he asked suddenly, surprising many in the room as he looked up with new found determination in his eyes.

"Traditionally in a situation such as this we would look to put the new regime into as difficult position as possible," Kingsley told him. "Make it so that they lose the support of their own people."

"Economic sanctions?" the Minister guessed.

"That's usually our first option," Kingsley agreed. "However in this case there is little we can do. We've never traded extensively with Peru, nor have any other parties who might be interested in defeating this new regime."

"So after economic sanctions what's next?" the Minister asked, feeling slightly impatient.

"We could ask the Muggles if they would be willing to bomb some camps," Kingsley suggested. "They'd have to be able to explain something to their people but I'm sure they'll manage."

"They did that with Iraq, didn't they," the Minister said warily. "That didn't work out so well."

"I believe the problems arose from having ground troops involved," Kingsley told him. "If we simply sent in fighter jets to bomb rebel camps they won't have that problem."

"They'll be able to find these camps?" the Minister asked. "They're not magically protected from such things?"

"Not the regular run of the mill camp, no sir," Kingsley replied. "The more established bases will be unplotable."

"So it's a pointless exercise," the Minister concluded, his voice rising. "Lets just cut to the chase, gentlemen. We all know where this is heading?"

There was silence around the room.

"Sir," Kingsley said hesitantly. "Are you suggesting a British Armed Force into the region?" The Minister's eyes met his.

"How would such an exercise go?" the Minister asked, his voice low as he spoke.

"I don't know, sir," Kingsley replied honestly.

"Then find out," the Minister demanded, rising to his feet and causing everyone else to rise with him. "I want full details for an invasion plan as soon as humanly possible. I'll be waiting." And with that he strode out the door, his cloak billowing out behind him, leaving a room of stunned and awed workers behind him.

"Minister," Amos said softly once they'd reached the safety of the Minister's office.

"Ah," the Minister cried out as though in pain, slamming a fist angrily against his desk, causing it to rattle. "Those bastards. How could they do this?"

Amos remained silent, giving the Minister a moment to work through his anguish. "Minister," he said softly. "I know you're hurting, I am too, but you've got to calm down. You're talking about sending troops to Peru, and if you do many of them won't return. You can't be mad when making this call."

The Minister didn't reply, instead choosing to lean heavily against the desk, panting as he tried to regain control.

"They came here," the Minister said softly. "Do you remember? They came here to have dinner with me and Molly. Manuel Caro, his wife and his daughter, Isabel."

The Minister chuckled softly. "What a fantastic young girl she was," he said, almost wistfully. "So excitable, she didn't stop talking all evening, even though she didn't speak any english."

"And the way Manuel looked at her," the Minister continued, a smile on his face. "Like she was the only thing in the world that truly mattered to him. The awe, the wonder at how something so beautiful and full of energy and happiness could possibly be his."

The Minister's expression became stormy. "These people will suffer for what they did," he vowed, turning to face Amos. "I will make sure they suffer, for Manuel and for Isabel." He looked at his old friend, his expression falling back into hopelessness. "How could they do this?"

* * *

Ron stood perfectly still, looking upon his interactive map with a pensive expression on his face, thoughts whizzing through his head at a hundred miles an hour. Names, numbers, they all flew before his gaze as he looked at the mostly blank map, imagining that each section held the same information he had stored in his head.

"You've started?"

Ron glanced at the door, not surprised to see Harry standing there, watching him. He nodded. Harry walked inside, approaching the map until the two of them were standing side by side.

"So, what's the key?" Harry asked as he looked over the map. "You've adjusted it since the Ministerial election?"

Ron nodded. "Blue is for constituencies where the current Warlock holds a lead of at least ten percentage points," he answered, eyes still examining the map. "Green is for a challenger with a 10 point lead, red's for undecided and white's for uncontested constituencies."

"What about grey?" Harry asked, noting a number of grey areas scattered across the map.

"Contested constituencies without polling data available," Ron answered. "I'm working to correct that."

Harry nodded. "So what's the prognosis?" he asked.

"It's still early," Ron commented. "Many of the challengers won't have even signed up yet. Campbell is suffering."

"We expected that," Harry said with a sigh. "He's not particularly popular these days, people think he doesn't do enough."

"Yeah, well, he's down 53 to 47," Ron informed him. "The challenger, Karl Hackett, his numbers will start to drop once the people realise he's no better than what they've already got."

"Will that be enough?" Harry wondered.

Ron shrugged. "Who knows." His eyes flickered to a different constituency. "What's going on with Ashford?"

Harry sighed. "David Woods is not running," he answered heavily. "I can imagine once the news comes out it'll be a bit of a free for all for his seat, although I expect Hardy to carry it now that he's already establishing himself in the region."

"Pity," Ron mumbled, scratching at the stubble that was growing on his chin. "Still, Hardy wouldn't be so bad. I just wish he was taking someone else's seat, like Carran or Davis."

Harry laughed softly. "When it comes time for him to go," he said quietly. "I'll miss him." He turned his attention back to the map. "Argyll and Bute is in play?"

Ron nodded. "Stockton has a challenge from Mark Bruce," he told him. "Bruce won't win, they like locals up there."

"Stockton isn't local," Harry reminded him.

"He does a good job pretending otherwise," Ron commented. "Hey, look, Alea's constituency is uncontested."

"Ynys Mon," Harry nodded. "Good news for Neville."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, he could get lucky tonight," he chortled.

"If he can't get lucky on Valentine's then he never will," Harry commented, a small grin on his face. "You got plans?"

"Yeah," Ron said, for the first time glancing away from the map. "Josephine's cooking up a special Valentine's Day meal. As a matter of fact I should probably get going." He checked his watch. "I've got to get some champaign before I go over. And shave."

Harry chuckled as Ron stroked his chin stubble thoughtfully. "Well, don't let me keep you," he grinned. "I can imagine you've got an enjoyable night ahead of you."

Ron's smile slipped slightly as he looked at Harry. "Ginny's working tonight, isn't she?"

Harry nodded, a small grimace crossing his face.

"You guys got plans?" Ron asked.

"Tomorrow," Harry replied simply.

"And tonight?"

Harry paused, not sure what the answer to that question was. "I suppose I'll probably just go home and catch up on some sleep," he said lifelessly. "Or maybe stay in late and catch up on work. Who knows?"

Ron nodded, biting his lip as he watched Harry regard the map on his wall.

"Hey," he said suddenly, starting to move back over to his desk. "I'm going to head off but feel free to stay and look at the map for a bit." He pulled out a massive binder from the bookcase and dropped it onto his desk with a thump.

"Polling data," he answered to Harry's inquisitive look. "Everything I've collected so far for these elections."

Harry looked at the black binder with interest. "Thanks," he said, walking over and gently resting a hand on the binder. "This should make my evening more interesting."

"You bet," Ron said with a smile, whipping his cloak over his shoulders as he quickly stuffed whatever work he had left into his bag. "I'll see you tomorrow." He announced, striding briskly out the office leaving Harry standing motionlessly behind, looking down at the black binder, contemplating what it could mean.

* * *

The door opened after a few moments knocking and Ron was immediately struck by the beautiful smells of freshly prepared food, the only thing able to eclipse the scented wonder being the visual wonder standing before him.

"Hey you," Josephine greeted with a dazzling smile, leaning in to kiss him before he'd even made it through the doorway. "You got here at just the right time."

"Well, I'm glad to be punctual," Ron joked, nearly wincing at his poor attempt at humour. Josephine didn't seem to mind though as she sent him another beautiful smile before divesting him of his cloak, taking it from him before he had time to protest.

"Now now," she said sweetly as she walked back into his arms. "What's the point of Valentine's Day if I'm not allowed to treat you right?"

"I thought that was my job," Ron replied. Josephine laughed lightly before pulling his face down for a kiss, caressing his skin as she leaned into him.

"You've shaved," she noticed, half pleased, half surprised.

"Well, as you say, it is a very special day," Ron replied with his most winning smile. Josephine giggled before gently pulling away.

"I'll just go get the food ready," she announced as she started to walk towards the kitchen. "Why don't you open that bottle of champaign and we can get started."

Ron waited patiently until Josephine was out of sight before pulling out his wand and removing the cork, not trusting himself to open it the manual way. Walking over to the dinner table, already set up with a single red rose and a low gently flickering candle, Ron poured out two glasses of champaign as Josephine returned, carrying with her two portions of spaghetti bolognese.

They shared a few words before really digging into the meal, sharing secret glances and lightly touching each other's hands as they made their way through the meal, stopping only to share a smile and drink some champagne.

"How was your day?" Josephine asked as they wound down to the end of their meal, Ron trying to completely clear his plate without making himself look too disgusting an eater.

"Interesting, for sure," Ron replied, suddenly realising he had some sauce on the corner of his lips and wiping it off with a napkin as Josephine restrained her giggles. "I had some meetings about the Wizengamot elections in August."

"Already?" Josephine asked in surprise, having not realised it started so early.

"Yes," Ron nodded. "Mike Hardy came to see me about running for the Ashford seat, which I thought was weird since the current holder is incredibly popular. But it turns out David Woods is retiring, unfortunately."

"You're upset to see him go?" Josephine asked sympathetically.

"He's a giant," Ron responded with a smile. "Back in the days when the Wizengamot was old fashioned and out of touch he was the young idealist with the revolutionary ideas to bring the country forward. To lose him is such a big blow, to the country more than anything."

"I'm sure things will work out," Josephine said soothingly. "What about Mike Hardy? Will he be any good?"

Ron shrugged. "You never know until they get there," he commented. "Mike's smart and ambitious, he could either be brilliant or a disaster." Ron sighed before glancing up, realising sheepishly that he'd managed to drag their date into a talk about work. "Anyway, enough about me. How are things going with you with 'Run Free'? You haven't been out of the country for a while, have you?"

Josephine smiled. "Not since Mongolia," she answered, shifting in her seat with nervous excitement. "I'm really glad you brought it up, actually," she said. "I've just been offered this incredible opportunity and I really couldn't wait to tell someone."

"You've got another trip," Ron said, getting excited on her behalf. "Where?"

"It's a three month project in Columbia," Josephine told him excitedly. His reaction was not what she expected.

"Columbia?" Ron whispered, his face pale as he felt as though he'd been hit in the gut. "You're going to Columbia?"

Josephine stared at him in confusion. "Yeah, Columbia. Why? What's the problem?"

Ron gulped, trying to find his voice. "You've seen the news?"

It suddenly clicked. "It's not Peru, Ron," she assured him. "I know better than to go there."

"It'll be dangerous," Ron told her.

"It won't be," Josephine stressed.

"Columbia shares a border with Peru," Ron continued. "Hostilities will spread. Columbia will get sucked into this."

"Columbia's a stable state," Josephine replied. "It'll be fine."

"You've seen the news?"

"Yes, I've seen the news," Josephine burst out, suddenly angry. "I've seen what is happening in Peru. But the coup was in Lima. My project will be in Santa Marta, north Columbia. I'll be over a thousand miles away."

"It won't be safe," Ron argued back. "In situations like these a thousand miles is nothing."

"It's not nothing," Josephine pressed. "Listen, Ron, I'm going to Columbia. In a week I'll be taking an international port key to the Columbian Ministry in Bogota whether I have your support or not." She paused. "It would just be nice to have it."

Ron was silent for a moment.

"Three months," he said quietly. "In Columbia." He rubbed at his face with both his hands, trying to ignore the pleading stare he was receiving from across the table. Looking up, his eyes met hers, and he knew what he had to do.

"Marry me."

Josephine blinked, completely thrown by the abrupt change. "What?" she stammered out, blinking rapidly as though to clear away the confusion.

"Marry me," Ron repeated, voice just as firm as before. "Let's get married. We'll buy ourselves a house in the city and I'm sure I can get our wedding in the Ministry, you said you thought the ball room was beautiful…"

"Stop, Ron, stop," Josephine begged, closing her eyes tight. "What are you doing?"

"I'm asking you to marry me?" Ron answered simply.

"No, no you're not. You're telling me to marry you," Josephine denied. "And it's ridiculous. We've only been going out for three and a half months. We don't live together, I don't even have a key to your apartment. We don't really know each other."

"All of that can be fixed if you agree to marry me," Ron pressed. "We can have a long engagement if you want, it doesn't matter."

"Ron," Josephine practically begged. "You can't think getting me to marry you is going to convince me to stay."

Ron stiffened. "Why not?" he said, his voice low and serious.

"Because we're not ready for this," she told him, her eyes starting to tear up as she looked at him. "I'm going to Santa Marta, I've made my decision. And if you're so desperate to stop me that you'd resort to this…" she trailed off, raising a hand to her mouth to cover a sob. "Then maybe we need to reconsider… us."

Ron froze. "You're not…" he began but his voice seemed to desert him, his breathing becoming heavier as he felt his heart thumping painfully against his chest. "You're not going to end this because of what I said," he told her, trying as much to convince himself of the idea. "You can't end it for something stupid like this."

Josephine shook her head, tears starting to trickle down her cheeks. "It is stupid," she agreed. "But it's not meaningless. This is the biggest opportunity I've ever had. I could imagine being there and wishing you were there with me instead of stuck back here, but I can't imagine being there with you hating that I am. If you can't accept this is what I have to do then… then I guess that's it."

Ron sat stunned, not saying a word as he stared helplessly at his perhaps soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. He knew what he should say, knew that every fibre of his being was telling him to say he was okay with her trip, but he couldn't do it. So instead he stared at her, until she got the hint.

"You've made your position clear," she choked, trying to compose herself a bit to speak. "I think it's best not to drag this out."

Ron nodded, although he was still not entirely sure what he'd agreed to do, so he continued to sit there, until his sense of reason caught up and he realised it was already over.

Switching off his emotions in a way only an experienced politician can, Ron rose mechanically to his feet, trying to ignore the new tears that welled up in Josephine's eyes as he did so. And though it pained him, though it cut through his heart like a surgical knife, he turned his back and walked to the coat hanger. Not for a moment glancing back, Ron pulled on his cloak, trying to resist the temptation to turn around and take it all back. He turned to the door and walked outside, only glancing back as he made to close the door behind him, taking one last glance at Josephine as he shut her out of his life.

* * *

The ring of the elevator doors opening echoed clearly through the vast stillness of the topmost floor of the Ministry, spreading to every corner of the offices and cubicles where the most important decisions in the country's existence were made.

Ron stepped out of the lift, his feet falling softly upon the rich, self cleaning carpet laid down in the corridors as he strode through the deserted workplace. Though the carpet was soft and though his steps were light, Ron could hear the slight rustle with every step he took over the complete silence of the midnight Ministry.

Ron gently pushed his office door open, pausing to half close it behind him, blocking off his view of the deserted hallways. Ron wandered slowly around his desk, careful not to knock into anything in the darkness as he slowly settled into his office chair. Slumping down, his energy sapped, Ron stared unseeing at the wall, his face illuminated by the pale glow of the moonlight, beaming gently through the enchanted window.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

What now? Was there even an answer to that question? He'd successfully ended the one real relationship he'd ever had, sabotaged his connection with the one girl who had ever shared in his life. Why did he do that? How could he?

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

Was it irrational? Was he wrong to walk away? He'd done it quite easily. Perhaps too easily. And for what? She was still leaving. She was still going to Columbia, still putting herself at unnecessary risk in a region he knew was just a spark away from falling into complete and total chaos. Anarchy. Did it make a difference?

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

Of course it did. It made a huge difference. He couldn't condone her actions, not when she refused to take seriously the risk she was taking. And while it wouldn't be easier for him to forget her, to not worry about what she was doing everyday, not scanning the security briefings for any hint of her name, he knew he couldn't stand beside her and watch it happen. It would kill him.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

And so he was doing the right thing, or was he? Was it the right thing just because it was easiest for him? Was it not his obligation, his duty, to push past his own needs for her's? Shouldn't he…

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

Ron straightened slowly in his chair, ignoring the creaking sound as it shifted under his weight as his senses started to tune themselves back into his surroundings.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

There it was. Ron leaned forward more urgently, now sure the sound had not been in his imagination. He'd thought the Ministry would be empty at this hour; only the night guards were on duty. What if he wasn't as alone as he'd thought.

"Harry?" Ron questioned out loud, his voice shaky and unsure, yet as soon as the words passed through his lips he was sure he was right.

Thump thump.

Despite himself Ron couldn't help but smile. Standing up, he moved quietly back round his desk and out his office door, moving to the next door down and pushing the slightly ajar entrance wide open.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.

Harry threw his rubber ball against the wall, expertly catching it each time with the excellent hand-eye coordination trained from seven long years as Gryffindor Seeker. Harry glanced almost guiltily at the doorway, rolling the ball nervously between his fingers as he regarded his friend.

"Hey."

Ron snorted quietly, stepping inside and falling into the chair across from Harry. "You know, when I said you could hang around for a bit I didn't mean you should stay here all night."

Harry glanced at him. "What time is it?"

Ron consulted his watch. "Nearly midnight," he answered, having taken the time from the stars and planets orbiting his watch face, a method of telling time Harry still had no idea how to interpret. "Did you ever consider it might be a good idea to go home?"

Harry shrugged. "Home, work. On nights like these the difference is minimal."

Ron shook his head. "You and my sister," he said exasperatedly. "I never would have expected either of you to be so mushy but every time one of you is without the other you act like a pair of lost puppies."

"It's just what happens when you love someone like we do," Harry said simply, not caring if he sounded corny. "Give it a few more months, you and Josephine will be just as bad." Harry wasn't looking at Ron as he said this, instead staring intently at his rubber ball, and so he did not notice Ron tense up, his face going pale and his jaw taught.

"We split up," Ron said finally, nearly a full minute after Harry had last spoken.

"What?" Harry said absently, completely lost in thought.

"Josephine and I split up," Ron repeated and this time his words got through, Harry's eyes widening comically in the dark.

"What? Why?" Harry stammered urgently, words tripping out of his mouth in his haste for answers. "What happened?"

Ron let out a deep sigh. "She's going to Columbia next week," he told Harry, his voice devoid of emotion. "She'll be there for three months."

Harry sucked in a breath. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly, taking in Ron's defeated form. "She'll be alright you know," he added, attempting to bolster his spirits. "Out of all the South American countries Columbia is by far one of the most stable. They've got working relations with both us and the US."

Ron shrugged, not entirely convinced. "Maybe," he said, non-committed. "Columbia might be safe."

"So," Harry prompted. "Maybe it's not over between the two of you. Maybe when she gets back things will be better."

"Unlikely," Ron snorted, before realising he'd given more away than he'd intended. Meeting Harry's gaze Ron knew he wasn't going to be allowed to avoid the question. He sighed. "I asked her to marry me."

There was silence in the office. Harry stared straight at Ron, as though seeing right through him, while Ron looked warily back, almost leaning away from Harry's gaze.

"Well that was stupid of you."

Ron laughed, the tension broken in a moment as Harry spoke. "Tell me about it," he muttered, still chuckling although the humour seemed to have gone.

"You seriously asked her to marry you?" Harry asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "You've been going out for what, two months. It took you over a month to convince Hermione to be your friend, how did you expect to convince anyone to marry you in two?"

Ron scowled, the reminder of Hermione not particularly welcome at that precise moment. "Yes, well," he grumbled, annoyance rising at Harry's continued amusement.

"I'm sorry but…" Harry tailed off, still shaking his head. "It's just such a Ron thing to do." Ron looked up at that, meeting Harry's gaze and seeing an understanding in them that he couldn't possibly imagine coming from anyone else. Just Harry.

"I was just looking through the polling. Mortimer's looking strong in York," Harry said, changing the subject to which Ron looked at him gratefully. "I think that would be great, especially considering it would get Carran out of the Wizengamot."

Ron nodded, leaning forward in his seat and peering at the files scattered across Harry's desk. "The numbers are just from the first round of polling," he informed Harry, picking up some numbers about the race in Westminster.

"Is that Brian's seat?" Harry asked, craning his neck to see the front of the parchment.

Ron nodded. "Christopher Brian," Ron said softly, almost sadly. "There's no way he's going to still be in the Wizengamot this time next year."

Harry frowned. "How come?" he asked, pulling the sheet from Ron's grasp. "He hasn't even got a challenger yet."

"But he will," Ron told him. "And whoever it is will win. This election is going to be all about Peru and Brian's pro intervention policy is going to kill him in August."

Harry grimaced, seeing the truth to Ron's words. "It's unfair," Harry told him. "Christopher is incredibly able, incredibly intelligent and incredibly hardworking. He's done nothing to deserve this."

"Except one thing," Ron commented. "He went into politics."

Harry chuckled. "'Politics are almost as exciting as war and quite as dangerous'," Harry recited. "'In war, you can only be killed once, but in politics - many times'. Winston Churchill."

"Apt," Ron commented, lazily trailing a hand across the papers on the desk. "Although I prefer this one: 'A politician is a fellow who will lay down your life for his country'."

Harry regarded him carefully. "Is that what it feels like?" Harry asked, pondering, as Ron was, what was going to happen with Peru.

Ron shrugged. "Well, just ask yourself how many politicians are going to be sent if we do plan to invade." There was silence. "I guess you just have to live life while you can."

Harry's sharp gaze fell on Ron. "Is that what you were thinking with Josephine?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

Ron sighed. "I was desperate," he admitted. "I jumped the gun. We weren't ready. You were right, we're nothing like you and Ginny."

Harry started slightly at the thought, looking at Ron questioningly, but Ron had already looked away. Together they sat in silence, not a sound to be heard except for the soft breathing of the two men in the office.

"I should probably get home," Harry sighed, looking at his briefcase with distaste. "I should at least try to get some sleep, or at least pretend to sleep before tomorrow."

Ron watched silently as Harry raised himself from his chair, moving lethargically as he lifted his briefcase onto his desk with a heavy sigh and turned to pull on his cloak.

"You know," Ron said suddenly, stopping Harry half way through shrugging on his cloak. "If you wanted to stay a bit longer, look over some more polls, that might be helpful."

Harry paused, half bent over as he stopped moving. He looked across at Ron, really looked at him, before gently allowing the cloak to fall from his shoulders. "Alright, I'll stick around a bit longer," he said calmly, draping his cloak over the back of his chair and settling down again. Across from him Ron gave an inaudible sigh of relief, before leaning forward on the desk and picking up some papers.

* * *

"No, we do not believe that this uprising was due to close relations between Peru and the US," Hermione told her clamouring press room, halfway through one of her many daily briefings. "From what we know the former Peruvian Minister, Manuel Caro, had no strong ties to any nation outwith the continent of South America."

"Even the British Ministry?" Donald questioned, quill and pad at the ready.

"Even the British Ministry," Hermione confirmed.

"Yet Minister Caro had a diplomatic visit to London where he dined with the Minister and his family," Donald pressed.

"I'd like to start by mentioning I have no specific recollections of what the diplomatic visit entailed so there is little I can contribute to the matter," Hermione spoke up, ignoring the clamouring reporters. "What I do know is that this is not about a friend of the Minister's who's in a little bit of trouble. This is about the brutal overthrowing of a democratically elected Peruvian Minister, done in such away that shows no thoughts of remorse or indeed humanity of any kind. This is about a crime against nature, against humanity."

Hermione took a breath, glancing down at her briefing book one last time before deciding to wrap things up. "Okay everyone, that's everything for now. As always I will be back in an hour to update you on any new events which might take place."

Hermione strode swiftly from the podium, ignoring the few reporters who tried to grab her attention as she did so.

"Senior Staff in the Minister's office," Demelza announced herself as she fell into step beside her.

"Do you know what it's about?" Hermione asked, striding briskly towards her office.

"No," Demelza replied shortly.

"Is it urgent?"

"They didn't say," Demelza answered. "On the other hand they are meeting now so I imagine whatever it is is time sensitive."

"Alright," Hermione said, shoving her briefing book into Demelza's arms and turning to go in a different direction. "Put that on my desk, I'll look at it when I get back." Hermione strode away, soon leaving Demelza far behind as she made her way towards the Minister's office. Receiving the okay from Daphne, Hermione stepped inside.

"Ah, Hermione, good," the Minister said as he saw her approach, completing his set of senior staff. "Now that we're all here I need to tell you something, something that will have a big impact on pretty much everything going on around here for the foreseeable future."

"Just fifteen minutes ago I instructed Kingsley to deploy our armed forces into Peru," the Minister told them as the staff stayed silent. "Our troops will take international port keys to La Paz, where they will join with American forces and travel across the border to Peru."

The Minister sighed, eyes sweeping across the men and women standing before him. "I know many of you will be uncomfortable with my decision, and some of you will downright hate it," his eyes flickered to those people he suspected to be in the later group, matching their stares with a firm look. "But as a Ministry we must stay united. We speak with one voice; that's Hermione's at the podium. I don't want to hear any stories of unrest in the Ministry. If you have something to say, say it to me, behind closed doors, and I promise I will listen."

There was silence as the Minister finished speaking. He stood there, waiting for someone to respond, but the staff remained quiet, watching and waiting for his order.

"Okay everyone, back to work," the Minister said, waving them away. "I don't need to remind you that things are going to get more difficult around here. It's time for us to step up to that challenge."

One by one the staff left, quietly getting back to their day jobs, knowing nothing would be the same for a long time. Eventually only the Minister was left, standing alone in the most powerful office in the world, having made one of the most defining decisions of his Ministry.

* * *

"Parvati!" Remus shouted, rummaging through the papers littering his desk frantically. "Parvati, are you there?!"

"I'm here," Parvati panted as she hurried to his office door, almost tripping in her high heels and having to throw long strands of hair out of her face as her ponytail unravelled.

"Good," Remus said, before looking up. His expression softened. "You okay?"

Parvati nodded, though her breathing was still heavy and her face was flushed and anxious. "It's… just surprise, Remus," she answered eventually as Remus continued to pierce her with his concerned stare. "I didn't know anything that was going on and now suddenly we're at war and…" she let out a long breath. "And it's just been very fast."

Remus nodded. "I understand," he said considerately. "This is difficult to get your head round, but we need you. So what you need to do…, I know it'll be difficult but what you need to do is put your personal feelings in the back seat. We don't have the luxury of time to deal with them now."

Parvati nodded, still looking shaky but clearly making an effort to pull herself together. "Yes, Remus," she said, forcing the words out in as confident and steady a voice as she could. "Is there anything you need?"

Remus nodded, getting business like. "Harry's going to be getting a lot of calls today," he told her. "Members of the Wizengamot will particularly want to get involved, it's an election year after all. I'd like you to tell Cho to send some of his calls on to me instead."

"Are there any particular calls you want to take?" Parvati asked.

Remus shook his head. "Harry'll want to take the ones from the Wizengamot," he told her. "Or rather he won't want anyone else to take them. Have Cho send me some of the others."

"Yes sir," Parvati said, hurrying out of his office with a swish of her ponytail. Allowing himself a brief sigh, Remus sat down at his desk and continued his attack on the files sitting there, flipping several of them open and scanning through them for anything that might be useful. He had been going at this for several minutes before he was interrupted by a knock on his door, causing him to look up from his work.

"Minister," Remus said in surprise, quickly getting to his feet as he saw the Minister standing in the doorway.

"Remus," the Minister replied with a worn smile. "Please, sit." Remus waited until the Minister had taken a seat before lowering himself back into his chair.

"How are you sir?" Remus asked, taking note of the dark shadows under the Minister's eyes. He'd noticed them during the Senior Staff meeting but now, sitting one-on-one, the dark marks appeared more pronounced, making the Minister look unquestionably old.

"I'm getting by," the Minister answered half heartedly, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. "The last couple of days haven't been easy, I'm sure I don't have to tell you."

"No sir," Remus replied quietly. He didn't say anything more, just waited.

"You've… seen the data, haven't you?" the Minister asked cautiously. "The casualty reports, how many we'd lose in a conflict." Remus nodded. "What do you think?"

"Sir?"

"About going into Peru," the Minister continued. "Am I doing the right thing? Usually I can tell whether what I'm doing is right or wrong but in this case I struggle to tell the difference."

"That's because there is no right," Remus said softly. "This was a crime against humanity. It's just wrong."

The Minister looked at him, almost helplessly. "Then what do I do?" he asked, his voice faltering as he spoke. "Either I invade and risk the lives of young men and women to fix a problem half way around the world, or I do nothing and let the radicals take over, destabilising a region we've worked tirelessly to support for the better part of three decades."

Remus took his time to answer, not wanting to be misinterpreted. "There are going to be people who are going to believe you are doing the right thing," he began. "And there are going to be people who think you're wrong. We'll undoubtedly be speaking to those people soon enough. But the truth is that none of that really matters."

The Minister looked up at that, meeting Remus gaze for the first time that day. "I don't know much about the military, or even South America," Remus continued. "You've got advisors who do. The truth is at the end of the day, as long as you believe you are doing the right thing, you will be doing it."

"That doesn't sound like the sort of advice you'd want to give some guy you find on the street," the Minister commented. "You don't think the rebels thought they were doing the right thing? Hitler? Stalin? Mussolini? Grindlewald?"

"I'm sure they did," Remus responded. "But I wouldn't give that advice to them, or indeed to any guy I met on the street. I'd give that advice to you, because I trust you."

"Yeah?" The Minister said softly.

"Yeah." Remus's gaze rose a few inches, looking past the Minister to where Parvati stood awkwardly in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Parvati said apologetically as the Minister turned. "Bob Cairney is on line one."

"Thanks Parvati," Remus said, instinct telling him to answer the phone but his common sense telling him not to while the Minister was in the room.

"I'll get out of your way then," the Minister said, rising to his feet. "Thanks for the talk."

"My pleasure, Minister," Remus replied.

"Good to see you, Parvati," the Minister said as he walked out of the office, striding calmly out of the Muggle Liaison Office, although his thoughts were anything but calm. He was oblivious to the many Ministry workers stopping in the hallways to show respect as he walked through the top floor, not even knowing where he was going, letting his feet guide the way. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to him where they'd take him.

"Call David Stewart and tell him that I need to speak with him, he'll know what it's about," Ron said to Colin as he stood behind his desk, leafing through papers as he talked a mile a minute. "I need the new agriculture subsidies mark up on my desk, the ones Hermione sent over are old, they don't include the latest figures for fluxweed or-"

"Ron," the Minister said softly, cutting through Ron's speech and causing him to look up sharply.

"Minister," Ron replied, surprise robbing him of the ability to say anything else.

"I'll hold off on the Stewart call for the moment," Colin informed him in the silence that had fallen across the room.

"Yeah, great," Ron muttered absentmindedly, eyes dropping to examine the files again as he looked away. "Oh, and Colin, can you close the door behind you?"

Colin nodded, backing out of the room and closing the door, leaving Ron and the Minister alone. They stood there, silently, for a long time, while Ron continued to rummage through his papers and the Minister continued to watch him.

"You know," the Minister said, causing Ron to pause in his tracks. "I don't care what anyone says, something is bothering you."

Ron looked up, his face a blank mask.

"Humour," the Minister commented. "An attempt to break the ice."

Ron huffed out a breath. "It's not your style," he commented, looking away again as he moved back to sorting through his files.

"No, I suppose that's more Fred and George," the Minister agreed, a gnawing feeling in his stomach as he watched his youngest son continue to avoid his gaze. "What's going on, Ron?"

Ron froze, taking a deep breath. "What's going on," he repeated, a significant bite to his voice. "I'm not sure if you've heard, but the Minister of Magic is going to be sending troops into Peru. It's okay, it's just a few troops, we won't even notice they're gone."

"Ron," the Minister tried to intervene but Ron had already built up way ahead of steam.

"No," he said harshly, his voice louder than before. "Did you not think, even for a moment, of the political ramifications of this decision. No one wants to send troops to Peru. Not only does it endanger the support of the public for the Ministry it compromises every single piece of legislation we propose. The Wizengamot can't be seen as agreeing with us. Not in an election year."

"Ron," he tried to interrupt again, his voice louder than before, but Ron kept going.

"Some of the best people in the Wizengamot right now are going to struggle to get elected; Alea, Ash Tyler, David Spence. Before these people were certain to be reelected but now new candidates are going to crop up everywhere in their constituencies and they'll have to fight to remain warlocks whilst tarred with our brush. You've made this election about Peru, no one's going to care about anything else."

There was silence as Ron finished his rant. He was panting heavily, red in the face, and it was only now that he'd stopped talking that he remembered who else was in the room.

"Ron," the Minister said softly. "You don't care about the politics."

Ron denied it. "I do care," he said, his voice a lot calmer than before. "If you want to talk about foreign relations talk to Harry, or Amos. If you want to talk domestic talk to Neville and if you want to talk about legal matters talk to Hermione. I'm politics."

"That's not why you're upset," the Minister told him. "That's not why you spent the last five minutes ranting as if I weren't even in the room. You know what this is about. It's not just politics."

Ron grimaced, hating he was so transparent. "It's wrong," he said, not looking at the Minister. "It's wrong to send people's children into a war zone to fight for a country halfway across the world. The troops we send will be normal, everyday people. Husbands, wives, fathers, sons, mothers, daughters, brothers, sisters. If they stay at home this doesn't affect them. The whole of South America could fall into anarchy and the everyday British citizen wouldn't be affected."

The Minister sighed. "You know that's not true," he told him, knowing Ron was smarter than that.

"I know," Ron agreed. "Prices on certain products would rise, and we might have a few more immigrants who already had family here. But I don't think that's enough to warrant the lives we'd lose by invading."

"I agree," the Minister said, causing Ron to turn to him. "And if that were all that was at stake I wouldn't do it." The Minister regarded Ron for a moment before slowly turning and opening the door, leaving Ron alone in his office.

* * *

Harry sat back with a sigh, finally getting a break in what had been a hectic day. He was heading home in an hour and he'd only just been able to get off the phone. That had been his job today. Everyone had been calling in. Everyone. Everyone wanted to have their say, one way or another, but most importantly they all wanted to ensure the Ministry knew just how much they disagreed with them. There had been a lot of angry phone calls, and not enough nice ones.

"Hey," Neville said softly, rapping gently against the door as he looked into Harry's dark office, the lack of light designed to try and allow for some rest while he sat there.

"Hey," Harry answered back, able to project some enthusiasm in his voice. Some. "How are you? I haven't had a chance to talk to you today, you know, given everything that has happened."

Neville nodded with a slight grimace. "You've been getting calls," he commented, having received plenty himself.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, from like half the Wizengamot," he said bitterly. "You'd think they'd at least take a moment to think that we might have better intelligence than they do."

"So there were no supporters of this decision?" Neville asked.

"Oh, there are," Harry said. "They're just the ones that haven't called. Thing is you can't support sending troops to Peru in an election year." There was a short pause before Neville slunk into the seat across Harry's desk.

"Did you hear about Christopher Brian?" Neville asked. Harry shook his head. "He's got protesters camped outside his house."

"Already?" Harry sucked in a breath of surprise. "Did he say anything about Peru?"

"He supported the Ministry's position at a lunch event a few hours ago," Neville confirmed. "Although it was hardly a surprise, Brian's always been for intervention in unstable states."

Harry nodded. "It's funny, Ron and I were just discussing it last night," he said in a faraway voice. "Ron said he wouldn't be in the Wizengamot a year from now. Truer words were never spoken."

There was an amicable silence between them, both men taking comfort in the peace and quiet in an otherwise hectic day.

"You were talking about this last night," Neville noted interestedly. "So it's true?"

"What's true?" Harry asked, although more for show than anything. He knew news like Ron's got around fast in a place like this.

"Ron and Josephine," Neville confirmed. "What happened?"

Harry sighed. "What do you know?"

"I know they were together yesterday morning," Neville said. "And they weren't by yesterday evening."

Harry nodded. "That pretty much sums it up," he said idly. "There are a few more salient details, for sure, but the issue was that Josephine was offered a job in Columbia, and naturally Ron didn't want her to go."

"So they broke up," Neville said. "Just like that?"

"Well, as I said, salient details," Harry reminded him. "But yeah, just like that."

"Have you talked to him yet?"

Harry shook his head. "We spoke last night," he told him. "I'd planned to talk to him again today but things got a bit out of hand. When things like this happen your own personal problems tend to get pushed to the back burner."

Neville nodded. "Speaking of personal problems…" Harry perked up.

"Oh right, I forgot, how did last night go?" Harry asked enthusiastically, glad to be focusing on something positive.

"It was good," Neville said with a smile. "I've never really celebrated Valentine's Day before so I wasn't really sure what to do at first. But Alea liked it, so that's what counts." Harry nodded in agreement. "You and Ginny celebrating tonight then?"

"I'm heading home in about an hour," Harry answered, a small smile spreading across his face. "To be honest I'm finding it hard to wait that long." Harry paused, chuckling slightly to himself.

"What is it?" Neville asked, smiling at Harry's good humour.

"Nothing," Harry waved away. "Just something funny Ron mentioned last night. Well, not funny, it was quite serious, but the situation was amusing, to me at least. Sorry, you really had to be there to understand." Harry tailed off, his eyes staring unfocused into the distance as a thoughtful look crossed his face.

"Harry?" Neville said carefully, clicking his fingers to gain Harry's attention. "What're you thinking?"

Harry shook his head absently. "Nothing important," he said, although his tone suggested anything but as his eyes fell to his desk, staring straight into the wood with some kind of fierce intensity.

"Right," Neville said, eyeing Harry's distracted countenance. "So is that you finished up with all your calls?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, now I can get back to my actual job. You know, the thing I was supposed to be doing all day."

"You're going to do it all in an hour?" Neville asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged. "I kind of have to," he responded. "I had Cho push back all the non-essentials, so everything left must be finished by the end of the day."

Neville nodded, watching as Harry continued to stare at the desk. It didn't take long for Neville to figure out that Harry wasn't going to get any work done that evening.

"Why don't you send it to me?" Neville suggested, causing Harry to jerk up in his seat. "Go home a bit early. Enjoy your evening. I'll get Cho to help me get through all your work."

Harry stared at Neville for a long moment, his face a mask as thoughts flew hidden behind his eyes. Slowly a small smile spread across his face. "Thanks Neville," he said gratefully, grabbing his cloak and throwing it haphazardly over his shoulders before rummaging around through all his papers to try and locate his briefcase. Finding it, and not caring about the papers he sent flying as he pulled it out, Harry made for the door, hastily thanking a bemused Neville again as he rushed out.

The Ministry staff took no notice of him as he hurried down the corridors, used to seeing him running around to get to meetings. Not even Hermione was surprised as he rushed past her, nearly knocking into her as he went.

Waiting in the lift was excruciating and Harry was unable to prevent himself fidgeting horrendously, worrying the other occupants of the lift who carefully moved to give him some space. As it was Harry was the first out as they reached the atrium and before anyone could so much as blink he'd reached the apparition point and disappeared with a sharp pop.

Harry reappeared in front of his apartment block, his breath suddenly visible before him in the brisk February air, though Harry was not affected by the cold as he quickly hurried forward, clumsily fishing his key out of his pocket as he reached the door. Taking the steps two at a time Harry paused for no more than half a second before letting himself into the flat.

"Harry!" Ginny said happily as she walked in from the bedroom, busy putting an earring in. She was already dressed in a beautiful gown, the form fitting dress shimmering as it caught the light. Her styled hair bounced as she walked up to him, kissing him deeply as she welcomed him inside. "I didn't expect you back for another hour."

Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as his stomach rolled with nerves. But he squashed them down. He was confident and determined in what he was about to do and that clearly showed on his face as Ginny started to look at him in concern.

"Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath, fighting down the last minute nerves that had fluttered within him at the sound of his name. Taking her hands, Harry looked straight into Ginny's eyes, surprising her with his intensity.

"Ginny, I could not imagine what my life would be like without you," he told her, sincerity pouring through every word. "I come home every day and it pains me when you're not there, so much. I can't live without you. I won't."

Ginny's eyes were prickling as she watched Harry take a deep breath, his confidence and determination unshakable.

"Ginny, will you marry me?"

Ginny's mouth opened in a silent gasp, her lips parted with no real goal in mind. She stood there, paralysed with shock, staring at Harry who stared right back at her. Her heart raced, her whole body seemed to heat up as her breaths became faster and deeper.

"Harry, I…" she tried to speak, her voice coming out in no more than a whisper, but she couldn't think of the words. "I mean, wow…" she stopped again, her mind spinning as she struggled to comprehend what was happening. Throughout all this time Harry remained quiet, looking into her eyes with a sense of calm which was completely indescribable. "Yes."

Harry blinked. He tried to speak but found no words coming forth. He swallowed. "You… you said yes?" he whispered, his face a mixture of wonder and disbelief, the calm he'd shown before shattering as he stammered, "You want to marry me?"

Ginny nodded, a broad smile forcing its way onto her face as she felt a rush of emotion flow through her. "Yes," she told him, her voice constricted in sheer happiness. "Yes, I want to marry you. I want to be Ginny Potter."

Harry smiled, the nerves he'd been fighting down vanishing as he looked down at his new fiancée with sheer relief and unbridled joy, so much so he didn't know what to say. Instead he reached down and engulfed her into a long deep kiss, sharing his emotion physically as she showed him hers.

Breaking apart Harry grinned at her flushed face, full of joy as she smiled back at him. He didn't say anything, and neither did she, he just looked at her, knowing that this was by far the happiest moment of his life.

* * *

The Minister sat still in the situation room, his eyes staring off into space as he contemplated everything that had happened over the last day. The room was quiet, the only people in the room with him were, like himself, sitting quietly, lost in thought.

Beside him Amos checked his watch, his actions jerky with a built up intensity he often found himself filled with at pressure moments. A few months ago this would have been a good time for him to take a drink, but the water didn't burn his throat the same way fire-whiskey did.

Some life was brought to the room as Kingsley walked in, perusing a file as he walked and gaining the attention of all those in the room.

"What's the plan, Kingsley?" Amos asked, unable to wait any longer as Kingsley stood before the screen, a map of Bolivia projected upon it.

"Our first round of troops will be taking a port key to the Bolivian Ministry in La Paz," Kingsley informed them. "The troops are currently at a training base in Portsmouth and in fifteen minutes, 6pm local time, they will arrive at their destination."

"And then what?" the Minister asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Then our boys will join the US forces stationed in La Paz, where they will finalise plans to invade Peru," Kingsley finished.

"Tonight?"

"Troops will rest up tonight while leaders of our forces meet with strategists from the American Ministry and the Bolivian Ministry," one of the security officials spoke up. "Tonight is simply about getting our troops within range, it will be some time before we make our move."

The Minister nodded, leaning back in his seat to signal he had no more questions. After a moment the various members of the Ministry security council were talking quietly amongst themselves, leaving the Minister and Amos to sit in silence.

"I talked to some people today," the Minister said quietly, not looking at Amos as he spoke.

"You're the Minister of Magic, I imagine you spoke to quite a few people," Amos replied, glancing at him. "Sorry," he apologised, looking away again. "Who'd you speak to?"

"Remus," the Minister said. "And Ron."

"What'd they say?"

"Remus was uncommitted," the Minister told him.

"And Ron?"

"Strongly opposed." The Minister sighed, running a hand through his thinning red hair. "He made some good points."

There was silence for a bit longer, the idea of what was going on hanging in the air between them.

"Ron's a bright kid," Amos commented. "He's smart, he's passionate, but he doesn't understand foreign policy."

"He said people don't want to send their children to fight a war half way across the world," the Minister said.

"They don't," Amos agreed. "But that doesn't mean they shouldn't do it. No one has ever sent troops to intervene in another country when only humanitarian issues were at stake."

"This is a humanitarian issue?" the Minister asked.

"Not really," said Amos. "But the idea is still the same. If it doesn't seem to benefit you directly you don't do it. If we do nothing the effect back home is very little, but Peru deserves to choose its leader and not simply have to accept whichever wacko decides to murder their way to the top."

"So it's about ideals."

"Yes," Amos agreed. "Ideals. Freedom, democracy, standing up for basic human rights. We wouldn't put up with this happening in Germany, or France or Spain, so why should we accept it just because Peru's a little farther away?"

"Ten minutes till lift off," Kingsley announced to the room.

The Minister nodded, both to Kingsley and to Amos. "Well, you argue your point well," he muttered to Amos. "Do me a favour and tell Ron everything you told me. See if you can change his mind."

"Honestly," Amos replied. "I'm pretty sure Ron knows this better than you think."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Harry grinned as he walked out of the lift and along the corridor, Ginny attached firmly to his side as she whispered in his ear.

"No, we can't do that," Harry muttered back, a massive smile on his face as he heard yet another one of her crazy ideas. "It'll be hard enough for him as it is without you slipping him a fainting fancy."

Ginny giggled, unable to control herself in her delirious happiness.

"Morning Harry. Hey Ginny," Cho smiled up at them from her desk, papers already spread across the work surface.

"Hey Cho," Ginny smiled brightly at the assistant, causing Cho to smile even wider in response.

"What's up with you two?" she asked. "You look like you've slept with hangers in your mouths."

"Hey Harry, I finished up that Dundee draft last…" Dennis trailed off as he approached, eyes drawn downwards as he spotted something unusual. "Is that…?"

He was interrupted by a shriek of happiness as Cho, completely losing her sense of self control, spotted the beautiful engagement ring sitting on Ginny's finger and pulled her hand forward. "Oh my god! OH MY GOD!"

Ginny blushed, although her smile didn't leave her face for even a moment as Cho gushed over her ring, Lizzie coming over to join them in their appraisal of the jewel.

"Congratulations," Dennis told Harry while Colin cuffed him on the shoulder, a grin on his face.

"What the hell is going on out here!" Ron shouted as he appeared in his office door, looking slightly the worse for ware. "Can you keep it down? Some people are trying to sleep in here." And with that he went back inside and slammed the door behind him.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance before Harry nodded. "I won't be long," he promised, kissing her and grinning as he felt her lips curl up against his mouth. Still smiling Harry went to Ron's office and, after gently knocking on the door, went inside.

"It's good to see you're not actually trying to sleep in here," Harry commented as he closed the door behind him, spotting Ron sitting behind his desk.

"I was," Ron grumbled. "I fell asleep here yesterday and woke up in the middle of the night. I couldn't get back to sleep so I just kept working and now…" he shrugged. "Anyway, that's my story. What about you? I thought Ginny was working today."

"She is," Harry confirmed. "This is only a short visit."

Ron nodded and waited for Harry to continue, knowing he must have had a reason for coming inside.

"Ah," Harry stammered, trying to work out how to explain himself. "Something happened last night and, uh, it's a bit hard for me to talk to you about this. I mean, you're my best friend and you're Ginny's brother so it's a bit hard to know how much I should be telling you, or if I should be telling you anything at all-"

"Harry," Ron said sharply, stopping Harry's babble. "What's going on?"

Harry paused, mouth open. He closed it, took a deep breath, and then spoke. "I asked Ginny to marry me," he announced, completely stunning Ron who sat stock still behind his desk. "And she said yes," he added, worried Ron was thinking otherwise.

"Well, of course," Ron stammered. "I mean, of course she'd say yes, it's you two. I…" he fell silent, mouth open. "I'm just so happy."

"You are?" Harry said in surprise, his eyebrows rising as he'd never expected his friend to act like this.

"Yeah, I am," he said honestly, standing up behind his desk. "The two of you… you're perfect. I've always known that. And the two of you, getting married… it's just right." He stood there, staring at Harry with a strange look in his eye. A look of hope.

"Oh for merlin's sake," Ron muttered, rounding the desk and pulling Harry into a massive hug, slapping him on the back as he blinked back tears. Harry too was choking under his emotions, barely able to stand as he embraced his oldest of friends.

Eventually they pulled apart, the two men standing slightly awkwardly next to each other, each trying to recover some control over their raging emotions.

Ron glanced at Harry and let out a watery chuckle. "So, you and my sister."

Harry laughed, surreptitiously wiping a tear from his eye. "Yeah, I think it might be serious," he joked back, receiving a playful punch from Ron.

"So?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. "Was it romantic?"

"It…" Harry paused. "Why do you care what happened?"

"I don't," Ron said honestly. "As long as it was romantic. Was it?"

Harry smiled. "I think so," he said, mind thinking back to the previous day.

"Good," Ron replied with a slight smirk. "You've come in to tell people?"

Harry breathed in deeply. "Yeah," he responded. "Ginny's got work today so we need to get round everyone quite quickly."

"Hey," Ron said, gesturing to the door. "Don't let me waste your time. On you go."

Harry nodded, heading to the door and reaching for the handle, before pausing. Hand resting on the handle, Harry turned back to Ron. "You're really okay about this?" he asked earnestly, desperate for the truth.

Ron took a second, a brief pause to consider the question, before nodding. "I'm good," he told him. "I really am."

A smile broke out over Harry's face. Without another word Harry opened the door and walked out, leaving Ron behind him and walking out to the assistants' desks, where Cho and Lizzie were still admiring Ginny's engagement ring.

"Hey," Ginny said softly as he arrived, quickly entwining her hands in his. "How did it go?"

"Good," Harry said with a smile. "Really good."

Ginny smiled. "Good," she whispered. "Who do you want to tell next?"

Harry hesitated for a brief moment before smiling. "I think we ought to pay Hermione a visit."

Ginny kissed him. "I think that's a good idea." They looked into each others eyes for a moment, before Harry turned to the assistants.

"Not a word about this to anyone," he told them, his voice strict. "I don't want the Minister finding out about this before we have the chance to tell him ourselves."

"We won't," Lizzie promised.

"Our lips are sealed," Cho added.

"Colin?" Harry asked, directing his attention to where Colin had returned to his work.

"Sealed," Colin answered simply, not even looking up from his work as he did so.

"Dennis?!" Harry called, unable to locate his deputy. He was answered by a loud 'Ouch!' from the direction of Dennis's office, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow.

"I'll tell him," Lizzie said, standing up and walking towards the office, shaking her head with despairing fondness. Turning from the assistant, Harry offered Ginny his arm.

"After you," he said with a smile. Ginny smiled back at him, hooking her arm in his and walking down the corridor, making the journey to the Press Secretary's office. As they approached Hermione's office they suddenly found themselves waylaid as someone threw themselves at Harry.

"Thank you!" Demelza yelled, almost frantically as she threw her arms around Harry. "Thank you! Thank you!" And she kissed him, smack on the mouth, before leaving him behind, stunned, as she walked off without another word.

Harry turned to Ginny, who was staring at him with an eyebrow raised, an amused smirk threatening to break through her interrogatory facade.

"I literally," Harry began. "Have no idea what just happened."

At this Ginny let out a giggle, unable to contain it at the adorably perplexed look on his face. Instead she pulled him forward, pulling him out of his state of confusion and into Hermione's office.

"Hey Harry. Hey Ginny," Hermione greeted as she bustled around her desk, organising files. "How are you?"

"Em, good," Harry answered uncertainly, still reeling from the incident with Demelza. "Hey, we just bumped into Demelza outside and she was acting a little odd…"

"What kind of odd?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"She just jumped out of nowhere, thanked me and kissed me," Harry told her, his voice rising slightly in hysterics.

Hermione paused what she was doing as he said this, and then dissolved into giggles.

"What?" Harry asked, slightly annoyed now that he wasn't getting answers.

Hermione did her best to calm down, trying hard to talk through the giggles. "It's just," she said, starting to get hold of herself. "She went on her first date with Seamus last night," she told him, watching the understanding dawn on his face. "It seems like it went well."

"I'd say," Harry chuckled.

Hermione laughed. "Alright, well, what was it you came here for?"

Harry glanced quickly at Ginny, before taking a short breath. "Well, something happened yesterday and we thought it'd be a good idea to let people know." As soon as he spoke Hermione's eyes were scanning him, looking for clues. It was seconds before she turned her attention to Ginny and to the ring on her finger. Seeing the ring her eyes widened comically and she raised a hand to her mouth as it opened in shock. Seconds later she'd grabbed them both in a big hug, practically squealing with happiness.

"I don't believe it," she chanted. "I don't believe it. You actually proposed?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I proposed," he told her, blushing slightly at the look she was giving him. "Last night, before we went out for dinner."

"That's great," Hermione gushed. "Who knows? You've been going round telling people, haven't you?"

"Yeah, well that's kind of the point of this whole morning," Harry said with a smile. "We're just going round everyone we know. We told Ron just five minutes ago."

"I'm just going to tell Luna," Ginny spoke up suddenly, turning to face Harry. "I'll see you in the outer office." She kissed him softly before slipping out the office, Harry watching her all the way.

"Congratulations Harry," Hermione said, smiling happily at him, tears of joy threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"Thank you," Harry said appreciatively, unable to contain his own smile.

"You going to tell the Minister now?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "I've got someone else I need to speak to first."

* * *

"Thanks Parvati, could you just put it here," Remus said as he sat behind his desk, Parvati standing before him with a pile of parchment in her hands. "The notes on the education budget will need to be looked over, could you do that for me?"

"Hey Remus," Harry called from the doorway, wrapping his fist on that door to announce himself. "How are you doing?"

"Good Harry, come on in," Remus gestured for him to enter, thanking Parvati as she left to give them privacy, shutting the door behind her. "Now Harry, what can I do for you?"

Harry hesitated. "I…" he started, not sure how he intended to continue. "When I was growing up I always wished that I had my mum and dad with me," he said, surprising Remus. "I always wondered what life would be like, to have my parents there to look after me. I always felt like I was missing out on something, something other kids just took for granted."

"You are my parents, Remus," he told him. "You and Sirius. You brought me up, taught me the way of the world. You taught me how to walk and talk, how to hold a wand and fly a broom, how to respect my elders and make friends with my equals. You've done everything for me, in a way worthy of a true parent, and that's why I wanted you to hear this from me, from my mouth right now, instead of through hear-say and speculation and rumours flying through the halls. I want to tell you as I would have told my parents, because that's what you are to me, Remus."

Remus swallowed, incredibly touched by the words spoken by the man he'd always thought of as a son. With a small sniff, Remus asked, "What is it you want to tell me?"

Harry took a breath. "Yesterday evening I asked Ginny to marry me," he said calmly, watching Remus's amazement. "She said yes. I'm going to get married."

Remus didn't know what to say, didn't even know if words were adequate to communicate what he was feeling as real tears rolled down his cheeks. Unable to muster up any words Remus pulled Harry into a hug, allowing Harry to bury his head into his shoulder as he held him close.

"I'm so, so happy for you," Remus choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "And so proud. So very proud."

Pulling back slightly Harry looked into Remus's face, tears streaking down each man's face. "Do you think," he stuttered, swallowing hard. "Do you think they'd be proud of me, if they were here?"

Remus looked into Harry's eyes, determined to show him the truth. "They are proud, Harry," he told him. "They are so proud of you, of everything you've done. Your parents are proud of you, Sirius is proud of you… I'm proud of you."

Harry nodded, accepting Remus' words even as more tears streamed down his face. "Thank you, Remus," he said thickly. "You have no idea how much those words mean to me."

"Thank you, Harry," Remus responded. "For letting me into your life like this. Of all the people in the world I want more than anything to be with you. You are an amazing man, how you managed that I don't know. But to hear what you just told me is an honour above all others."

Harry and Remus stood there, too emotional to say or do anything. Finally Remus came to his senses.

"Hey, look at us," he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbing his eyes. "If Sirius had seen us like this he'd never let us live it down."

Harry laughed, his voice choked through the emotion as Remus offered him his handkerchief.

"Don't worry, it's self cleaning," Remus said with a smile as Harry looked at it suspiciously, causing him to chuckle and accept the offer. "So I assume you haven't told the Minister yet."

"No," Harry answered, drying off his face and passing the handkerchief back. "I wanted to tell you first, and Ron and Hermione too."

"So it's been a rather emotional morning, hasn't it," Remus said lightly.

"And it's not even over," Harry added heavily, looking nervous all of a sudden. Remus tilted his head, scrutinising the young man before him.

"You shouldn't be so nervous, Harry," Remus told him, catching his attention. "The Minister loves you like a son. He'll be over the moon to hear this news, I can assure you of that."

"Thanks, Remus," Harry said, grateful for the man's words of comfort. He took a deep breath. "Alright, here I go. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Remus called after him as he walked out the door, watching after the man he considered a son and marvelling at the incredible journey he'd been through from that night on halloween 27 years ago when his parents were cruelly ripped away from him to where he was now, on the verge of having a family all to himself.

* * *

Harry strode with purpose, doing his best to ignore the doubts that were rising steadily to the surface, no matter how hard he tried to push them down. He was oblivious to the outside world, so focused was he on his task that he almost didn't realise it when he walked into the Minister's outer office.

"Congratulations Harry," Blaise said, pulling him out of his trance as he reached out to shake his hand. Harry thanked him, his voice slightly shaky with nerves as he turned to see Ginny leaning up against Daphne's desk with Daphne sitting with an enormous smile behind her.

"Hey," Ginny said softly as she walked up to him, kissing him gently and feeling his tension. "It'll be fine."

Harry nodded, trying to breath slower as he fought to control the panic rising up within him. After a few seconds he felt himself stop trembling as he started to regain control of his fear and gave Ginny a short nod.

"I'm ready."

Ginny smiled, before turning and leading him through the door and into the Minister's office, where the Minister himself was standing by his desk, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read through a file.

"Ginny, what a surprise," he said happily, pulling off his glasses and pulling her into an embrace, kissing her lightly on the forehead as they broke apart. "I wasn't expecting to see you this morning, what brought you here?"

"Apart from your magnificent company?" Ginny replied cheekily. "Harry and I wanted to tell you something." At this the Minister looked up and noticed the other person in the room.

"Harry, good to see you, how are you?" the Minister said genially.

"I'm good, sir," Harry answered, trying not to fidget where he stood. He looked helplessly at Ginny who obliged, pulling back from her father to take his hand so they could face him together.

"What's going on?" the Minister asked, looking suspicious.

"Dad, there's something we'd like to tell you," Ginny started. "It's big and I don't want you to react without really thinking about this."

"Ginny, what are you talking about?" the Minister asked worriedly.

"Dad-"

"Ginny and I are getting married, sir," Harry cut in, mustering up what was left of his courage to say it all out loud.

"Married?" the Minister repeated, his voice sounding dazed as if he didn't know what to make of it.

"Yes, dad," Ginny said. "Last night Harry asked me to marry him, and I said yes."

They stood still for several minutes, no one saying a word as the Minister grappled with what he was being told. Standing there, under the Minister's gaze, Harry could feel his courage start to fail him, only to have Ginny squeeze his hand. Looking at her, imagining their future, was more than enough to calm his nerves.

"This…" the Minister finally managed to get out. "This is… fantastic news." A wide, beaming smile broke out over the Minister's face and all of a sudden all the tension in the air seemed to disappear as everyone in the room gave a sigh of relief.

"Have you started on plans for the wedding yet?" the Minister asked excitedly. "Dates, venue, music; it's never too early to start planning these things you know."

"Eh, no, we haven't got any plans yet," Harry admitted, starting to feel a bit lightheaded in light of the Minister's acceptance. "We wanted to tell everyone before we made any plans."

"Fantastic idea," the Minister said, noticing Amos enter the office from a side door. "Hey, Amos, look at this, my little girl's getting married." The joy and pride in his voice was unmistakable as Amos's face lit up with a smile.

"Congratulations you two," he said as he approached them.

"Thank you, Amos," Ginny said sweetly, allowing the older gentleman to kiss her cheek before he shook Harry's hand.

"I'll come back later, give you some private time," Amos offered, backing back the way he had come.

"Amos, if what you have is important-" Harry started but Amos waved him off.

"It can keep," he told him and without further ado he left the office, closing the door behind him.

"Well this is cause for celebration, isn't it," the Minister said happily. "Family meal at the Burrow, tonight, the whole family together. Yes, that includes you Harry, you're one of the family now."

Harry's face flushed, surprising himself by how warm he felt to be included in the family. He was brought out of this thought by Ginny turning to him.

"I've got to go now but I'll see you back home," she promised him, to which he nodded.

"Wait, hold on a moment, why do you have to leave?" the Minister asked, confused.

"I've got to get to work," she told him. "I just came in to tell you about our news but if I don't leave now I'm going to be late."

"Alright," the Minister accepted. "But don't forget about dinner. Now come over here and give your old man a kiss goodbye." Ginny smiled as she walked up to her dad, placing a kiss on his cheek cheerfully before bouncing off out of the office, leaving the Minister and Harry alone.

They stood in silence for a while. But then, the Minister spoke.

"Harry," he began. "You know I like you, love you even, like a son, and you know that nothing will ever change that."

"Yes sir," Harry replied.

"But I've got to make you promise," he told him. "I know you wouldn't do it, wouldn't even think of doing it, but I need you to promise me this. Promise me you'll look after my daughter, that you'll never hurt her."

There was a brief pause. "Sir, there is nothing more I want to do in the world than to look after Ginny," Harry told him. "She is my everything; my life, my heart, my home. She means more to me than I could ever have imagined before I met her."

The Minister nodded. "Good," he said. "Now, I guess it's time to get back to work."

"Yes sir," Harry said, beginning to make his way to the door.

"Oh, and Harry," the Minister spoke up, stopping him before he reached the door. "You don't have to call me sir anymore. We're family."

Harry paused. "I'm sorry sir but I don't think I can do that," he told him honestly. "Even if you weren't my girlfriend's father you'd still be the Minister."

The Minister nodded in reluctant acceptance, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

"And even if you weren't the Minister I'd still call you sir," Harry told him. "Sir isn't about rank or relation, it's about respect, so I will always call you sir." Harry stopped, looking over at the Minister who he respected so much more than he could ever know. "I'll get back to work, sir."

The Minister nodded. "Thank you, Harry," he said softly as Harry turned and left, leaving him standing alone in his mighty office.

* * *

Ron took a sip of his coffee, his eyes still focused on the report sitting in front of him, the tiny black letters flying through his brain as he took it all in. Just as he was placing his mug down he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hey Colin, what have you got?" he asked as he tore his eyes away from the report, filing away his thoughts on the subject for the time being.

"New language for the fisheries bill," Colin said, handing him over a file which he accepted with a heavy heart, the fisheries bill proving both tediously boring and continuously irritating to him since the day it had first been announced. "And the Minister asked me to remind you that dinner will be at eight and that your mother will be very cross if you are, as usual, late."

Ron chuckled under his breath. "Send a message to the Minister's office that I understand and I promise I will arrive on time and with appropriate attire," he said with a small smirk. "And dig up the last draft of the fisheries bill so I have something to compare this to."

"Will do," Colin said, turning and leaving the room, passing Hermione on his way out.

"So," Hermione said, bringing Ron's attention away from the bill he'd just started to read. "Weasley family dinner tonight?"

Ron nodded. "To celebrate Harry and Ginny's engagement," he told her. "Do you want to come? I'm sure mum would love to have someone else to feed."

Hermione laughed. "Thanks, but no, I think I'll pass up the offer this time." Ron raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. "This is a family thing, invite Remus, not me."

Ron shrugged. "Ok, I will, but it's your loss," he told her, turning to the bill. "And by the way," he added after a moments perusal. "You are family."

"Ron," Hermione made to protest but Ron cut across her.

"You are," he argued. "You may not be related by blood or through marriage, you may not have red hair and freckles but you are family. You've been family since the first time you stayed at the Burrow and my parents realised just how good friends we are. Same with Harry, really."

Hermione smiled, feeling slightly blown away by the vehemency with which he made his point. "Thank you, Ron," she said softly. "And you are family to me too, you know. You and Harry, I couldn't imagine a life without the two of you."

Ron grinned. "Me neither." There was an amicable silence in the room as the two friends each contemplated their friendship, remembering the years between them and the trials and tribulations which strengthened the resolve of their commitment to each other.

"I heard about Josephine," Hermione said suddenly, snapping Ron out of his happy memories. "I was sorry to hear that."

Ron shrugged. "Me too," he said. "But I guess it's just the way things go." He narrowed his eyes. "How much do you know about this?"

Hermione hesitated. "There's been plenty of rumours over the last couple of days," she told him. "I imagine you must have heard them. Anyway, I was concerned so I cornered Harry and got the whole story from him."

Ron nodded, wishing she'd never thought of asking Harry for the truth. But then she wouldn't be Hermione if she hadn't.

"How are you taking it?"

Ron sighed. "Better than was to be expected," he answered. "But then again my expectations were that the world would collapse in on itself, which it kind of has in South America. To be honest I've been too busy with work to think about it much."

Hermione nodded. "But with Harry and Ginny getting married," she said cautiously. "And the way things ended between you and Josephine, it must be hard."

Ron looked at her. "Actually," he said softly. "It makes it easier, knowing that Harry and Ginny are getting married. I think what happened to me prompted Harry to act, and maybe something good did come out of this after all."

Hermione smiled at Ron's optimism, simply in awe of the strength of her friend as he stood up to his problems and found himself equal to them.

"And besides," Ron continued. "If a guy like Harry, who has never been able to trust anyone with his emotional baggage, is able to fall in love and get engaged with a girl who has struggled to stay with a guy for any length of time because she found them irritating then there is hope for all of us that one day we'll find the one we want to spend our life with and start our very own happily ever after."

"It is a nice thought," Hermione agreed, watching the glimmer of hope ignite in Ron's eyes as he spoke, knowing he could not possibly understand what his words meant to her as she watched him celebrate for his friend, despite his challenges. How she wished he knew, but it wasn't the time. Not so soon, not now, it wasn't time. But she would wait, she'd been waiting for awhile now, and sooner or later she would have her happily ever after.


	13. Preparation

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Rise up this mornin'," Dennis sang to himself, pottering around his office as he listened absently to the song from the radio. "Smiled with the risin' sun. Three little birds, Pitch by my doorstep. Singin' sweet songs, Of melodies pure and true, sayin', 'This is my message to you'."

"Dennis, what the hell?" Harry asked in bewilderment as he walked into his deputy's office. "What on earth is that you're listening to?"

"Reggae," Dennis answered, silently annoyed to be missing out on singing along to the chorus. "Bob Marley, 'Three Little Birds'."

"Bob Marley," Harry said thoughtfully. "He's a muggle singer, isn't he?"

"He was a muggle singer," Dennis replied. "Died in '81. Cancer. He was a genius though, created music like nobody else."

"Right," Harry said carefully, slightly confused by Dennis's apparent love of Bob Marley. "Okay, well, good for him, I guess," he said. "Anyway, I needed to warn you about something."

"I finished the Hammersmith speech," Dennis told him. "And the remarks for the Q&A session with the teachers unions."

"Well, great, but that's not what I wanted to warn you about," Harry told him, causing Dennis to look up. "I'm going to be busy today, I've got something to deal with. I don't know how long it will take or even if I'll be finished by the end of the day but I wanted to inform you now so you aren't completely shocked when I have Cho send you all my appointments."

Dennis blinked. "All your appointments," he said hesitantly. "All of them?"

Harry coughed. "No, not really, I shouldn't have said that," he backtracked. "Obviously if there's any emergency I need to deal with then I'll make sure to take that and I'll try to keep as many of my own appointments as I can but there will be some things I won't be able to do."

Dennis let out a relieved breath. "Okay," he said, calming significantly. "Cho will be keeping me up to date on everything I need?"

Harry nodded. "I'll tell Lizzie what's going on, although I imagine Cho's already told her."

Dennis nodded, turning back to his notes. "Wait," he said suddenly, having a thought. "What's this thing you need to do?"

Harry grimaced slightly, rubbing at his chin in agitation. "Wedding planning," he muttered, surprising Dennis. "We're meeting with a Ministry organiser to discuss wedding arrangements."

"And you don't like that because…?" Dennis questioned, raising an eyebrow at his boss.

Harry sighed. "I'm just not looking forward to it," he said defensively. "I don't want to have to spend hours in a room with some Ministry organiser. I mean, what else do they do when they're not doing weddings?"

"Well, I imagine they probably are heavily involved in all the Ministry events that go on in the ballroom downstairs," Dennis answered, prompting Harry to glare at him. "Sorry?" he said sheepishly, realising too late that Harry was being rhetorical.

Harry kept his annoyed stare on his deputy for a moment longer before turning to the door, making to leave. "We'll talk later," he announced as he walked out the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Sighing in preparation for his soon to be busy day, Dennis turned to the radio, turning the volume up as 'Buffalo Soldier' started up.

There was a knock on the door. "Dennis."

Dennis switched off his radio as Lizzie stepped into his office, looking slightly nervous as she stepped inside. "Harry talked to you about what's happening today?" Dennis asked, turning his attention away from his work.

Lizzie nodded. "Yeah, he just told me to make sure Cho keeps me up to date," she told him. "He says he doesn't anticipate missing much but he just thought we should be prepared."

Dennis let out a sigh. "Good," he muttered, feeling some of the pressure on his shoulders lessen slightly.

"You're worried?" Lizzie asked cautiously.

Dennis looked at her, and sighed. "Yes, I am," he admitted softly. "I know I've been here for a while now but Harry still works to keep the more important stuff off my desk. I'm just worried I might not be up to doing what Harry needs me to do."

"You will be," Lizzie assured him. "Harry wouldn't have hired you if he didn't think you were up for it."

"He hired me to write speeches," Dennis argued. "He didn't hire me to… I don't even know all that Harry does. I don't know how to do his job."

"Harry hired you as his deputy," Lizzie told him. "And you'll learn how to do Harry's job. In the meantime you've got Harry to help you, and Ron and Neville and Hermione. You'll learn."

Dennis leaned back against his desk and closed his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "You're right," he admitted, eyes closed. "You're right, I can do this. It's just a bit intimidating, that's all." Dennis sighed, letting out a long breath to calm himself as he opened his eyes. "Right, so, was there anything else?"

Lizzie nodded, her nervousness starting to reappear. "My parents-" she started but Dennis cut her off with a long groan. "My parents are visiting me tonight," Lizzie pressed on, ignoring the unhappy look on Dennis's face. "I'd like you to have dinner with us."

"Dinner?" Dennis asked, his face screwed up in pain. "With your parents? Can't I just hang myself or something?"

"It won't be that bad," Lizzie tried but Dennis wasn't having any of it.

"Won't be that bad?" He repeated, slightly hysterically. "Not only am I dating my own assistant but I'm about twice your age."

"Dennis, stop this, you're being ridiculous," Lizzie told him, her voice showing her annoyance. "You're not twice my age, you're only six years older than me-"

"Six and a half," Dennis intervened.

"-and my parents aren't going to judge you on your age or your job or anything like that, so stop worrying about it," Lizzie finished, her voice getting louder as she spoke. "We've had this conversation before, Dennis. You're not getting out of this now. Tonight you will come to my place for half past seven and have dinner with me and my parents."

And with that Lizzie stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her and leaving a pale and shaky Dennis alone in his office. Slowly, Dennis moved his hand to switch his radio back on, shivering as he heard the reggae music filter back into the room, no longer having the same comforting effect as it had before.

* * *

"Hey Hermione," Harry muttered as he wandered into the Press Secretary's office, glancing down at all the work piled on her desk. "Busy?"

"Not really," Hermione replied, finishing scribbling something down and then placing it on top of one of the neatly stacked piles of parchment. "I've just got a little housekeeping here to do before my next press briefing. You?"

Harry shrugged. "Not so much with the work," he answered dispassionately. "But I'm meeting with one of the Ministry organisers in a few minutes."

"What about?" Asked Hermione.

"Wedding preparations," Harry answered. Hermione glanced up.

"How's that going?" she asked with a smile. "Chosen a venue yet? Flowers? Music? Cake?"

"All to be decided by Helen Baker, Senior Official in the Department of Occasions and Planning," Harry recited dully, playing with a quill that had been left out on one of Hermione's side tables.

"Kind of kills the mood, doesn't it?" Hermione said, attention now fully on Harry as he tinkered around her office.

"I'll say," Harry snorted. "I'm starting to wonder if I'm really necessary for this wedding to go ahead."

Hermione didn't say anything in response, watching Harry curiously. "Well, what about the Honeymoon?" she asked, bringing a true smile onto Harry's face.

"That's all up to me to decide," he said happily. "Of course it all depends on when we have the wedding but I was thinking Hawaii, two weeks."

"That sounds good," Hermione said with a smile.

"It sounds perfect," Harry corrected her. "Beautiful beaches, constant sunshine, just me and Ginny with no worries about what's going on in Peru or back here with the Wizengamot."

"And you think you can keep yourself from thinking about work for two whole weeks?" Hermione questioned, raising her eyebrow in amusement.

"When I'm with Ginny I can," Harry answered back with a grin. Hermione laughed.

"Oh dear Harry, you are just so besotted with that girl," she laughed airily. "Who'd have thought that dark, brooding Harry Potter would ever be like this."

"Not me," Harry chuckled as Demelza stepped into the room, walking silently up to Hermione's desk and placing a note on it before leaving just as quietly. "What's up with her?"

"Who? Demelza?" Hermione questioned as she glanced up halfway through reading the note.

"Yeah, she seems really… I don't know, moody, this morning," Harry commented, glancing at the closed office door with a frown. "I swear she was glaring at me when I walked in."

Hermione let out a breath of mixed amusement and annoyance. "She broke up with Seamus," Hermione told him.

"Again?!" Harry said in disbelief, to which Hermione just rolled her eyes. "This is the third time they've broken up, in what? Two months?"

"More like three months," Hermione said dryly. "I should know. They broke up on their one month anniversary, then two weeks later and finally just last night."

"You would know?" Harry questioned, to which Hermione sighed.

"Demelza likes to blow off steam when she's angry," Hermione told him eventually, acting almost guilty about telling him this. "When she has problems with Seamus, or not, as it happens, she tends to tell me about them."

"What kind of things are we talking about?" Harry asked.

Hermione hesitated. "How Seamus isn't reliable enough, how greatly spontaneous he is, how he has a bit of a crude sense of humour, how good make up sex is…"

Harry shook his head wildly, signalling desperately for Hermione to stop. "Hermione, please, don't ever talk to me about make up sex ever again," Harry made her promise, looking slightly ill at the thought. "I just do not want to think about it."

Hermione laughed softly at his expression. "And here I thought I was a prude," she joked, before glancing at her watch. "When are you meeting Miss Baker?"

Harry grimaced. "Just about now, in fact," he muttered, looking at his watch, almost glaring at it as though the watch was at fault for what time it was. "I am not looking forward to this."

"It'll be fine," Hermione assured him. "Just think, once this is over all that will be left is getting married." Harry didn't look particularly reassured. "And then Hawaii."

Harry chuckled, smiling his thanks at Hermione for lightening his mood as he made his way to the door, ready to face the music. "See you later," he told her before walking out the door and closing it behind him.

* * *

"Now to the guest lists," Helen Baker said enthusiastically, making up for the severe lack of enthusiasm on the other side of the table. "I've got the lists you each submitted to the department last week. Are there any changes you would like to make before we go through them?"

"I'm fine," Ginny told her, glancing to her right. "Harry?" Harry blinked, surprised to have been addressed as he slouched disinterestedly in his chair.

"Yeah," he said simply, waving for Helen to continue. Ginny watched Harry for a moment longer, concerned by his lack of interest, before turning back to where Helen was waiting patiently to speak.

"Okay, well, there were a few issues with the lists we'd like to take a look at," Helen said, passing out a copy to each of them. "First Xenophilous Lovegood."

"He's my Maid of Honour's father," Ginny said defensively.

"I understand but he has several warnings for experimenting with restricted magical substances," Helen said cautiously, trying her best not to rile anyone up.

"I know he's had warnings but he's never been charged," Ginny argued. "I really want him to be there."

"I know he hasn't been officially charged with anything yet," Helen said hesitantly. "But this is a very important social event and we've got to be careful-"

"Oh, for god's sake, let him come," Harry snapped angrily, just about fed up with the woman already. "This is our wedding, not a Ministry function."

There was silence as Harry finished his outburst, Helen looking pale faced and shaky while Ginny looked even more concerned than she did a few moments earlier.

"Alright," Helen said shakily, making a small mark on her copy of the guest list. "Mr Lovegood will be invited. Okay, now, next issue is Dudley Dursley."

"What about him?" Harry asked, his voice still hard as he stared down the organiser. Helen gulped.

"We just wanted to make sure that he was used to magic enough not to be too overwhelmed come the wedding," she said hesitantly. "I understand he's family so I just wanted to warn you it might be an issue for him."

"He'll be fine," Harry said confidently.

"Okay," said Helen, seemingly glad to have got through that without incident. "And Petunia and Vernon Dursley?"

Harry was silent, his face showing no emotion as his mind whirled at the thought. Slowly, Harry let out a long, sad sigh, before shaking his head. "Take them off," he said simply. Ginny glanced at him.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said, his voice heavy. "Take them off." Helen nodded and scored two names off the list, before fishing out more sheets of parchment from her folder.

"That's everything to do with your lists," she told them, handing them each several pages of parchment. "These are Ministry suggestions for guests. Now, I know neither of you are going to be particularly keen on having a lot of people you don't know attending but it's important that we invite certain people for diplomatic purposes."

Ginny nodded while Harry just grimaced, hating that this had become part of his wedding.

"Now," said Helen, getting hold of her own sheets. "Let's start with the A's."

They'd made it all the way down to Prince Roman Kaminsky of Russia when they were interrupted by a knock on the door, Cho to be seen through the glass panels.

"Alan Jones is in Meeting Room 3," she told Harry as he gestured her inside.

Harry nodded. "Okay, I've got to take this," he said, standing up from his chair. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He didn't look back as he followed Cho out of the room and off towards Meeting Room 3.

"Does he know why we've asked him to come?" Harry asked quietly as they approached the meeting room.

"I didn't tell him," Cho replied. "I just asked if he could come in and speak with you."

Harry nodded. "Well, given my job he probably should have some clue what it's about," he commented, one hand resting on the handle of the door. "What's happening with my eleven o'clock?"

"I've passed it onto Dennis," Cho told him.

Harry nodded in acceptance. "He met with Warlock Stewart?"

Cho shook her head, checking her notes. "Ron suggested he should speak with the Warlock," she told him. "I sent Ron's meeting with the labour union's leader to him instead."

"How did that go?" Harry asked, interested to see how Dennis had coped.

Cho shrugged. "I don't know," she answered. "I wasn't in the meeting."

Harry nodded. "Alright, well, I'm going to go in now," he said. "Just, you know, make sure Ron checks in on the labour unions later today." Cho nodded and walked off, leaving Harry standing alone in the corridor, one hand still on the handle. With a deep breath Harry pushed open the door and walked inside. "Alan, I'm glad you could make it."

Alan Jones smiled as he saw Harry approach, shaking his hand warmly. "It was no trouble at all," he assured him. "It's always good to see you. And hey, I haven't had the chance to congratulate you yet on your engagement."

Harry smiled. "Thank you Alan," he said appreciatively, gesturing for him to take a seat.

"So, how are the preparations for the wedding going?" Alan asked as he sat down. "Have you settled on a date? Should I be making some space on my calendar?"

Harry laughed. "Of course, but we haven't decided on a date yet," he replied. "We've actually been meeting with a Ministry organiser today to get things, well, organised."

"I'm sorry to have to pull you out of there," Alan said sincerely.

"Oh, no, you did me a favour," Harry laughed. "Planning a wedding is tough enough even without the Ministry being involved."

Alan chuckled. "I hear you," he said heartily.

"Anyway, how are things going with you?" Harry asked. "I heard your father is doing better."

"Yes, he is," Alan said with a smile. "Nothing can keep that old man down for long, not even kidney cancer."

"The muggle medicines are working then?" Harry asked cautiously.

"It seems that way," Alan replied. "Of course it would be better if my father were allowed magical remedies but… well, that's the law, isn't it. No muggle is allowed magical remedies."

"I am sorry about that," Harry said. "If we could make an exception we would but it's important to maintaining the Statute of Secrecy that we uphold these laws."

"I understand, Harry, I understand," Alan assured him. "If my father weren't doing so well I might not be feeling so charitable but, yes, I do understand."

"What about your brother?" Harry asked. "He wasn't particularly keen on magic in the first place."

"Dylan is better than he used to be," Alan told him. "I won't pretend our father's condition hasn't lessened his faith in magic but he is much more accepting of it than before."

"I suppose it must have been hard," Harry said. "To be non-magical and have to watch your brother learn all these amazing things that you could never accomplish."

"He's made his peace with it," Alan said with a shrug. "And besides, there's no way I could work with technology the way he does. He has his own type of magic." Alan glanced around before gesturing for Harry to lean in. "Just one thing, I haven't mentioned to him yet but there seems to be a lot of interesting happenings going on around his house."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "You don't think…?"

Alan nodded. "I think his daughter has some magic in her," he said, his voice sounding incredibly excited. "I'm not completely sure but there have been signs."

"That's great," Harry congratulated him. "Maybe you'll finally have someone to impart your pearls of wisdom to."

Alan chuckled. "I hope so," he said. "My children seem to have made a point of ignoring any advice I may try to give them." He looked at Harry in amusement, his eyes twinkling. "So, Harry, what did you bring me here to talk about?"

Harry straightened, getting back to business. "You're in Gareth Morgan's constituency, aren't you?"

Alan nodded. "Pembrokeshire. Yes, believe it or not I'm one of Morgan's constituents." He chuckled.

"You're not a fan of Morgan?" Harry asked.

"Let's just say I won't be voting for him in the next election," Alan told him. "Although for that matter he is still unopposed so that likely means I won't be voting for anyone at all. Why? Do you like him?"

"Not at all," Harry denied. "He is one of the most mind-numbingly boring people I've ever had the misfortune to meet. He does nothing in the Wizengamot, sometimes I forget he's actually still there."

"Well, if you're so unhappy with him why don't you find someone to run against him," Alan suggested. "Odds are they'll win."

"Yes, well, that was what I was thinking," Harry agreed. "I've been talking with the Political Strategies Director Ron Weasley about this, taking a look at any people from Pembrokeshire who might be interested in running for the seat."

"And?" Alan asked, leaning forward interestedly. Harry looked at him. "No," he said immediately, shaking his head. "No way, I can't run."

"Why not?" Harry asked, seriously curious as to what objections he could have.

"I'd get absolutely destroyed," Alan told him.

"By Gareth Morgan?" Harry questioned. "You'll beat him easily. You just said that if we find someone to run they're almost bound to win."

"I can't do this," Alan told him. "I can't be a Warlock of the Wizengamot. I don't have any experience with politics."

"And yet you are smarter than most of the Warlocks currently in the Wizengamot," Harry argued. "Okay, look at it this way, there is no one else in your constituency that would be good enough for the Wizengamot. So it's either you or we give Gareth Morgan another four years on a government salary. It's your choice."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Harry calm and composed, Alan fidgety and uncertain. Sighing, Harry looked at his watch.

"Listen Alan, while I'd love to just sit here with you we're out of time," Harry told him. "There's another meeting due to take place here so we need to clear out. Go home, talk to your wife, then call me tomorrow with your yes. Filing deadline's one week today."

Harry stood up, prompting Alan to do the same.

"Harry," he said, stopping Harry as he turned to the door. "If I were to accept and get elected to the Wizengamot, would all our meetings be like this."

Harry smiled. "Pretty much," he said with a grin. "It's great, isn't it."

Alan smiled back. "I'll call you with my answer tomorrow," he told him, picking up his cloak and throwing it over his shoulders. "In the meantime, good day to you, Harry."

"Good day, Alan," Harry replied as he watched the next Warlock for Pembrokeshire walk out the door.

* * *

"Lizzie!" Dennis called, sitting behind his desk with a file open before him. Lizzie appeared in his doorway, clipboard at the ready in what had been one of her busiest days so far. "This report from Neville on the farm subsidies, is there any background information? It just seems as though I'm walking into a conversation half way through, if you know what I'm saying."

Lizzie walked up to his desk and stuck her hand into the mountain of parchment, eventually pulling out a small two page file scribbled hastily in Neville's handwriting.

"Thanks," Dennis said, slightly embarrassed to find the sheet had been on his desk all along. "Sorry about that."

"That's okay," Lizzie said shortly, not looking at him.

Dennis grimaced. "I said I was sorry," he told her, his voice a mixture of annoyance and pleading for her forgiveness. "I'd love to meet your parents, you know I would. I'm just nervous, that's all. I just don't think they'd take kindly to me being with you. Can you honestly tell me they don't have a problem with it?"

Lizzie hesitated, telling Dennis all he needed to know.

"Lizzie!" Cho called from outside the office. "You've got a call."

Lizzie bustled outside, thankful for the opportunity to avoid answering Dennis's question. Dennis, not wanting to let her off the hook that easily, followed her outside.

"Hello, this is Dennis Creevey's office, how can I help you?" Lizzie said as she answered the phone, trying to ignore the way Dennis was hovering around her. "Sure. If you'll just hold on a second I'll patch you through."

"Who is it?" Dennis asked, his curiosity winning out over his desire to continue their argument.

"Bolivia's Communications Director," Lizzie answered, causing Dennis's eyebrows to fly up. "He wanted to talk to Harry but Cho sent him through to you." Dennis gulped. "I'll put him through to your office."

Dennis wandered slowly back to his office, trying desperately to gather his wits as he sat behind his desk. Suddenly his phone rang, startling him. Calming down, Dennis picked it up on the fourth ring. "Dennis Creevey."

"Mr Creevey," a voice answered from the other end of the phone, the accent undeniably South American. "This is Teo Ochoa, from the Bolivian Ministry of Magic. I am to understand it that you are Deputy Communications Director at the British Ministry?"

"Yes, that is correct, how can I help you?" Dennis asked, trying to ignore how he could feel sweat build up on his forehead.

"I'm sorry for being difficult with you Mr Creevey," Teo apologised. "But it is imperative that I speak with Mr Potter."

"Harry's got an important meeting today," Dennis told him. "I'm not sure when it will finish but if you want I can have him call you when he's done."

"I'm sorry Mr Creevey but I need to speak to Harry now," Teo said urgently. "It is of utmost importance that I talk to Harry."

"May I ask what this is about?" Dennis enquired, his interest and sense of foreboding overwhelming his nervousness as he waited for a response.

"Peru," was the simple answer on the other end of the phone, an answer that worried Dennis greatly. Craning his neck to see Lizzie at her desk, he gesticulated wildly for her to come over, still holding the phone to his ear.

"Alright, I'll see if I can get hold of him," Dennis said over the phone, his voice remarkably calm as he scribbled a quick note on a blank scrap of parchment. "Is there anything else you can tell me?" Dennis asked, sliding the parchment across the desk and giving Lizzie a meaningful look, who quickly read the parchment and nodded.

 **GET HARRY NOW!**

Without a moment's pause Lizzie walked straight back out of the office, quickly looking for her colleague. "Cho," she called as she spotted the other assistant walking out of Harry's office. "Where's Harry?"

"Why?" Cho asked as she walked over to her desk, pulling over some more parchment.

"Dennis needs him," Lizzie told her. "It seems urgent."

Cho looked up, noticing the stress on the younger girl's face and putting two and two together. "Check the Murphy Room," Cho told her, going through some paperwork to find Harry's schedule. "If he's not there try Meeting Room 3, Hermione's office, Neville's office or Amos' office." Cho paused. "Check Remus's office too while you're at it."

Lizzie nodded, hurrying away and down the corridors, stopping briefly as she passed Hermione's office.

"Hey Demelza, is Harry in there?" she asked breathlessly. Demelza shook her head mutely so Lizzie was quick to hurry on, quickly reaching her destination and, upon seeing Harry inside, knocking on the door.

Harry glanced up, the knock having interrupted a quite pleasant fantasy of strangling the Ministry organiser as she discussed flower arrangements with them, managing to even tire out Ginny's enthusiasm for the celebration.

"Just a sec," he muttered, recognising the slightly stricken look on Lizzie's face and knowing that something, whatever it might be, had happened, and that now the rest of his day would be engulfed in it.

Walking out of the room Harry gave Lizzie a second to catch her breath before pressing on. "What's happening?" he asked quietly, glancing down the corridor to ensure they weren't overheard.

"Dennis asked me to get you," Lizzie told him. "He got a call from the Communications Director in Bolivia, Teo Ochoa. He was actually calling for you but Cho passed him on to Dennis and then Dennis asked me to get you." Lizzie ceased her babbling long enough to hand Harry the note.

Reading it, Harry grimaced, not liking where things were going. "What else do we know?"

"That's it," Lizzie responded. "Dennis was still on the phone when I left so he might have more information."

Harry nodded. "Thanks Lizzie," he told her, quickly hurrying away down the corridor without a backward glance, not seeing the look Ginny sent him as he passed the Murphy Room, the concern in her eyes powerful.

Walking into Dennis's office Harry found Dennis standing behind his desk, the phone lying upon it. "Is he on?"

Dennis nodded. "He didn't want to tell me much so I put him on hold until you got here."

Harry nodded in acceptance. "Did he mention anything about what this might be about?" he asked, knowing that something had to have been said to provoke such a response.

"Peru," Dennis said. "That's all he would tell me. Other than that he just stressed how important it is that he talk to you immediately."

"Alright," said Harry, picking up the phone. "Good job. Do you mind if I use your office?" Dennis shook his head, walking round his desk and exiting the office, closing the door behind him.

Watching Dennis go, Harry took a second to compose himself, before answering the phone. "This is Harry Potter, may I ask who I'm talking to?"

"Harry, it's Teo," came the voice of Teo Ochoa on the other end, the man sounding awfully relieved to be hearing from him. "I'm sorry for all this secrecy and everything but this is very important and it is vital that no one finds out about this."

"Teo," Harry said nervously, not liking the way this conversation was going. "What is it you've got yourself into?"

"Something big, Harry," Teo answered. "I've got a man named Roberto Caro with me in the Ministry."

Harry froze. "Roberto Caro," Harry said slowly. "Any relation of…?"

"Brother," Teo confirmed. "You were aware he was in Bolivia?"

"I wasn't aware he was at the Ministry," Harry responded. "Has he been there all along?"

"No," Teo told him. "He just turned up today." There was a long pause. "Harry, I need you to come over here. Immediately."

Harry let out a breath. "I can't be there immediately," he warned. "It'll take time to arrange an international port key."

"How long?"

Harry took a moment, quickly estimating in his head. "Two to three hours," he answered.

"Give me a call when you are planning to leave," Teo told him. "I'll meet you when you get here. See you soon."

"Teo, wait," Harry said, taking a moment to check Teo had heard before continuing. "You said this was about Peru?"

"I think it's obvious how this is about Peru," Teo replied, slightly confused.

"Yes, I agree, but I just want to warn you," Harry continued, taking an agonising breath. "If this involves military strategy there is nothing I can do. I can't decide Ministry policy."

There was silence over the phone. "Just get here, Harry," Teo told him. "Roberto Caro has something to say and I think you really should hear him out. Once you get here we can figure everything out."

Harry took a breath. "Okay," he said. "Bye." The phone went dead in his hand. Slowly Harry lowered the phone back down onto the desk and rested it in its port, his mind reeling. After about a minute the door opened.

"Lizzie said the call had been disconnected," Dennis told him as he looked inside. Harry nodded, turning fully to face his deputy. "Is everything okay?"

Harry bit his lip, glancing down at the phone. "I don't know."

* * *

"Amos, there you are, I haven't seen you all day," the Minister said from behind his desk as he signed paper after paper as Blaise passed them to him. "Blaise has got me signing proclamations by the hat load. Seriously, he could be putting anything in front of me and I'd still be signing it."

"It's concerning that Blaise has that kind of power," Amos noted as Blaise handed the Minister another paper to sign.

"Very," the Minister agreed as he signed his name. "But we've been doing this for a little over two years now and I haven't managed to auction off any particular part of the country yet. I think we're safe."

"That you know of," Amos warned him.

"Right," the Minister said, handing over the last of the signed papers back to Blaise. "Say, Blaise, if you had managed to trick me into making you a regional prince or some such, would you at least tell me after you had?"

"Certainly sir," Blaise replied smoothly. "Although if I had tricked you into signing an executive order to excavate a mountain in order to house a secret cave from which I could fight crime wearing a stupid mask I might not tell you in order not to give away my secret identity."

The Minister pulled his glasses off and looked at Blaise interestedly. "Now there's a thought," he said, placing one end of his glasses against his lip.

"I'll just get these filed," Blaise told him, gesturing to the papers as he made his way from the room.

"Thanks Blaise," the Minister called after him, turning his attention back to Amos. "Wouldn't that be something, huh, Blaise working for the Minister during the day but by night he roams the countryside, protecting the weak and the innocent from the world's cruel injustice."

"It'd be something," Amos agreed. "Especially since you keep him working twenty-four seven."

"He'll have an accomplice then," the Minister waved away. "Someone with no commitments and no need for human contact who can sit in a dark cave all day waiting for a call." The Minister finished his dramatic statement before tapping his glasses on his desk. "What'd you come here for?"

"I just spoke with Kingsley," Amos told him, noting immediately the sag to the Minister's shoulders. He waved for him to go on. "So far there has been little resistance to our forces coming in from the Bolivian border," Amos told him. "A few small scuffles but in general those we've come across have been sympathetic to our cause."

"Manuel was a great friend to the farmers," the Minister commented. "It's no surprise they're unhappy that he's been brutally overthrown. It'll be in the towns and the cities where this will be won or lost."

"Then we're coming up to our first real tests," Amos told him. "Troops are closing in on the cities of Juliaca and Puno in the south east of the country."

"Population?"

"Puno, about 150,000," Amos answered. "Juliaca, more like 200,000."

"Are we to expect much resistance in these areas?" the Minister asked tiredly.

"Not particularly," Amos told him. "Naturally the locals aren't too thrilled with us walking through their country and undoubtedly some will make a fuss and fighting is almost bound to break out. But on the whole these cities, and indeed the entire Puno region, is quite cut off from the current power struggle. My guess is we'll only truly know how hard this will be once we've made our way to the west coast and gone through Ica, Pisco, Canete and of course Lima."

"There's a lot of anti-British sentiment in the area?" the Minister asked. "How much of this is simply anger against an invading nation and how much is real support for the new regime?"

"To be honest at this point it's both," Amos answered. "Those angry with our intervention are running to stand behind the new regime. At least they're Peruvian."

"Peruvian mobsters more like," the Minister grouched. "Does it not bother these people the manner in which their leader was removed from power?"

"The new leader, Lazaro Casales, has been spouting rhetoric along the lines of Manuel Caro supplying Europe and America with Peruvian produce for little fee in order to cosy up to their leaders and enjoy a more luxurious lifestyle than his citizens could afford."

"We never traded with Caro, did we?" the Minister questioned. "So this Lazaro can just make these things up and no one questions it?"

"A lot of people do," Amos said, feeling the need to speak up for the Peruvian public. "But they're afraid to speak out, their leader was just brutally executed. And besides, if you were some common Peruvian sock merchant who are you most likely to believe, one of your own or some politician back in London."

The Minister let out a huff, anger at the entire situation getting to him as it often did when he discussed military strategy with Amos. "Is that everything, Amos?" he asked curtly.

"Not quite, Minister," Amos replied, knowing to tread carefully when the Minister got into these moods. "We've got word from the front line of a situation that could possibly be brewing in a small village not far from the shore of Lake Titicaca."

"What's the situation?" the Minister asked.

"The village is home to a few Casales supporters who, upon hearing that British troops were approaching, have started to stockpile ammunition," Amos told him.

"How concerned are we about this?" the Minister asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"They are very few in number," Amos assured him. "And their supply of weapons is minimal. That doesn't mean that they won't be a threat should we decide to just bypass the village."

The Minister nodded. "What does Kingsley suggest?"

"Kingsley believes we cannot take the risk of ignoring this threat," Amos told him. "An attack upon these men would likely only provide outrage amongst those who hadn't already been supporting Casales, as well as being an ethical quandary. Kingsley suggests we send in an extraction team to seize the weapons."

"Seize the weapons?" the Minister repeated. "And you think that'll neutralise the threat?"

"Without weapons the only thing these guys can do is throw stones at us," Amos reasoned. "I'd think it'd be safe to consider the threat neutralised if that were the case."

The Minister nodded. "Okay, give Kingsley the green light," he told Amos, turning to the documents laying before him. "I want updates throughout the day."

"Yes sir," Amos said, turning to leave.

"Amos," the Minister called to him, stopping him halfway to the door. "Do you know what's going on with Harry and Bolivia?"

Amos shook his head. "I'm afraid we're all in the dark on that one," he said. "We'll just have to wait until Harry gets back."

The Minister nodded solemnly. "We'll just have to wait," he repeated. "Good luck, Amos."

"You too, Minister," Amos replied as he walked out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.

* * *

Harry stumbled as the international port key deposited him roughly at the end of a long blur of sounds and colours which Harry hated with a passion. He'd never been a fan of port key travel, ever since his very first experience, and while the magic had been improved upon over the last decade a journey from one side of the world to the other still left its mark.

Harry didn't have much time to get hold of his bearings as he was quickly escorted off the port key platform, ensuring that he would not get in the way of any new arrivals. As he was finally released Harry turned his gaze to the door.

Teo Ochoa was a short man with an anxious looking face, the perfect disguise for the real anxiety Harry could see in his Bolivian counterpart at that moment.

"Harry, thank god you're here," Teo said, sounding very relieved. "Follow me, I'll take you to somewhere we can speak privately."

Harry followed Teo out the door and into the main atrium of the Bolivian Ministry. The room was incredible, a triumph of artistic engineering accomplished by one of the finest wizards to ever have come from South America.

"Teo," Harry murmured, his voice disguised beneath the swarm of Spanish flying around them as office workers and Ministry officials called across to each other.

"Not here," Teo replied shortly, leading Harry through the bustling atrium with determination, keeping his head low as if to avoid people noticing him. Not likely that was going to happen, Harry thought. As the only European in the whole building Harry stood out like a sore thumb.

Teo eventually reached the far end of the atrium, which, Harry noticed after fighting through the last wave of Ministry workers, contained a bank of lifts. After a quick conversation with one of the security guards Teo led Harry into one of the elevators, closing the doors behind him and pressing another button to take them to the right floor.

They stood in silence as the lift started to dip lower, flashes of light passing each time they descended another floor. After a while the lift started to slow down, until it came to a stop, the lift bouncing slightly as it settled into place.

"Teo?" Harry asked, staring through the lift grate and seeing only the dark of the solid stone wall of the lift shaft.

Teo, on the other hand, wasn't listening. Instead he was waving his wand around himself in weird squiggles and twirls, mumbling softly under his breath as he went. It was only when Harry felt a wave of magic pass over him and imbed itself in the lift floor and walls did he realise what Teo was doing. Privacy charms. Powerful ones.

Teo stopped moving, his wand still held out in front of him as though he was to proceed with more spells and incantations. After a second he sighed and lowered his wand arm, his entire body seeming to sag.

"I'm sorry about all this, Harry," he told him, sounding genuinely apologetic. "It's just that this is incredibly sensitive and if the wrong people find out…"

"Teo," Harry said softly, looking at his counterpart. "Is the water over your head?"

Teo let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure there's anyone whose head the water's at," he responded. "But I'm the one this particular phenomenon has happened to, so I have no choice but to deal with it as best I can."

Harry nodded. "Tell me about Roberto Caro."

Teo took in a breath. "At the time of the chaos starting in Peru Roberto Caro was visiting the city of Sacaba, capital of the Chapare province," Teo explained to him. "Roberto has never been particularly interested in politics, though not for a lack of intellect or understanding. Roberto is one of South America's leading experts on our magical history, mostly in Peru but his work encompasses Colombia, Chile, Paraguay, Uruguay, Ecuador and of course Bolivia."

"Why's he here?" Harry asked.

Teo glanced around the lift, as though looking for what to say. "He's smart," Teo repeated. "And his brother has just been murdered by rebels, rebels who now rule over his country. Can you imagine he'd be happy with that?"

"I can imagine if he wanted to do anything about it he wouldn't have waited so long to seek the help of the Bolivian Ministry," Harry argued.

"When Minister Caro was executed we sent a security detail to protect Roberto, we feared the rebels felt their job wasn't finished without completely wiping out the Caro family." Teo paused for breath. "Our intelligence has shown no attempts, no hints even, of an attempt on his life. Naturally Minister Hernandez didn't want to waste our man power, especially with this coup happening in one of our neighbouring countries, so-"

"So he pulled the security and left Roberto Caro free from any form of surveillance," Harry concluded. "How long ago did this happen?"

"No more than a week ago," Teo informed him. "He arrived at the Ministry late last night, when only the night security team were here. The night watchman called our head of security, who came in and talked to Señor Caro before informing the Minister of his findings."

"Who else knows about his?" Harry asked suddenly, his mind whirring as he went through all the names Teo had just alluded to.

"Edmundo Rosales, the Chief of Staff, and myself," Teo answered. "We've had each member of the security team last night submit a magically binding oath that they will not speak of this to anyone."

"Okay," Harry said slowly. "So you've got all bases covered? No one's suspicious?"

Teo hesitated. "Our Deputy Chief of Staff is curious," he replied. "He won't look into this, though. He doesn't have the tendency to need answers so he'll be perfectly happy to just let it lie. With any luck no one will find out until Roberto's completed what he came here to achieve."

"And what is that?" Harry asked sharply. "Why did Caro come here? And why did he come in the middle of the night? What's so important that he couldn't risk people even getting a hint that he'd come to the Ministry?"

"That," Teo said slowly, tapping his wand against the side of the lift, causing it to shudder back to life. "Is something you should really discuss with him."

The doors to the lift opened out onto a long dark corridor, nothing but solid stone in sight as the corridor seemed to stretch on forever. Harry immediately recognised the place for what it was. The interrogation rooms.

Teo led Harry down the corridor, stopping at the third door on the left. Ignoring the fact that the door had no handle Teo tapped it several times with his wand. For a second nothing happened, until the door started to disappear into the wall beside it with a soft grinding noise, revealing the man on the other side.

Harry had never met Manuel Caro, or even seen him in person, but he had seen photos, and the man sitting behind the solid stone table could not be mistaken for anyone but Manuel's brother.

"Señor Caro," Teo said respectfully as he walked inside, prodding Harry to do the same. As soon as they had both stepped over the threshold the door started to grind back into place, eventually falling in perfectly in the doorway, leaving no visible clue to the fact it had ever been there.

"Señor Ochoa," Roberto Caro replied smoothly, his voice deep and gravelly, very in keeping with the dark and brooding persona he held as he sat still in his seat, not acknowledging Harry until he was introduced.

"Señor Caro, this is the British Communications Director, Harry Potter," Teo told him. "Harry, this is Roberto Caro."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Harry said, almost on reflex as he looked down at where Roberto Caro was sitting.

"The pleasure is all mine," Roberto replied, his eyes slowly scanning Harry's face, sizing him up with an almost disturbing calm. "So, you came."

Harry nodded and suddenly all his training, all his experience in foreign affairs returned to him. Snapping out of his stupor Harry moved swiftly to take a seat across from Roberto, noting as he did so that Teo remained standing, unobtrusively out of the way. "You wished to speak to me."

"I wished to speak with a representative of your Ministry," Roberto replied slowly. "Teo was the one who chose you."

"I'm flattered," Harry said blandly, not for one moment caring who had decided to bring him in. "What business did you wish to conduct with my Ministry?"

Roberto considered him for a long moment, his dark, intelligent eyes watching Harry's intently. "I wish to speak with your Minister for Magic," he told him. "I understand he knew my brother well."

Harry took a moment to think about that answer, something telling him to think through everything he said as though there were a double meaning. "I don't imagine you wish to speak to him for personal reasons." Roberto didn't answer, instead holding him with a steady stare as he thought things through. "What business do you wish to conduct with my Minister?"

"That," Roberto said. "Is between Minister Weasley, and myself."

Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't accept that Mr Caro," he told him, watching as Roberto seemed to lean back slightly as he spoke. "I can only arrange meetings with the Minister if I am convinced he should take the meeting, and given what I know so far a meeting between the two of you could be potentially catastrophic."

Harry waited for an answer, watching Roberto Caro with a steady gaze as he continued to sit there quietly. It was hard to know, boxed in a room that seemed out of touch with the real world up above them, but it seemed to be at least ten minutes before Harry decided to speak again, breaking the silence.

"Mr Caro, I am your ticket to Minister Weasley," Harry told him. "If you won't tell me what you wish to speak about I cannot allow you to meet." Again Roberto said nothing.

Harry let out a frustrated sigh, glancing angrily at his watch as he felt his irritation build with the man before him. "Fine," he said suddenly, his annoyance reaching its tipping point. "I'm not sitting here for silence. I'm a busy man and if you're not willing to speak to me then I'm not just going to wait." Harry sprang to his feet, turning his back to the Peruvian to face the wall where he knew the door was concealed.

"I wish to go home," Roberto said softly, stopping Harry in his tracks. "I wish to return to my Peruvian homeland."

Harry turned back to face him, noticing the slight desperation hidden beneath his cool facade, the first true emotion he'd seen in him since they'd met. Taking a calming breath Harry moved back to his seat and sat down, once again face to face with Roberto Caro.

"It's not safe for you to return to Peru," Harry told him. "Once Casales hears you're back in the country he will not rest until he's got your head. Your very existence is a threat to his regime, he won't let you live."

Roberto nodded, a sadness in his eyes as he accepted what he'd said and Harry for the first time started to wonder just how hard it must be for the man before him. His family; dead. His home; a soon to be war-zone. His people; after his head.

"I understand, Señor Potter," Roberto said softly. "It is the reason I have not just walked back over the border myself. I know that, for as long as Casales remains in charge, I cannot return."

"But you want to return," Harry said slowly. "And you are here to find a way to return." Harry stopped, licking his lips hesitantly. "Mr Caro, before we go any further I must be frank with you." Roberto nodded for him to continue. "I cannot decide British foreign policy. Not here, without consultation. If you have plans for Peru I have to bring it to the Minister."

"You are one of his chief advisors?" Roberto asked, regarding Harry carefully.

"I am," Harry acknowledged. "But I don't have the experience to advise the Minister on military issues."

"This isn't a military issue," Roberto told him. "It's a foreign policy issue."

"What is it that you propose?" Harry asked.

"I propose," Roberto said slowly, for the first time leaning forward as he speak. "That when Lazaro Casales is defeated I be installed as Minister of Peru."

* * *

Harry trekked down the corridor of the British Ministry of Magic, shaking with adrenaline and nerves as he hurried towards his office, scowling at anyone who got in his way.

"I'm back," he announced as he moved past Cho's work station, not even pausing to properly greet her as he made his way to his office, throwing his cloak randomly inside and hoping it landed on something other than the floor.

"Hey Harry," Ron said, standing in the doorway of his office as Harry re-emerged from his own.

"Can't talk," Harry said shortly, cutting off anything Ron might wish to have said as he walked past him.

"Harry, Ginny was asking where you were," Cho told him.

"I had something to do," Harry said shortly.

"She wanted to know when you'd be back," Cho pressed.

"I'll be back when I'm back," Harry snapped, whirling to face Cho who leaned away from him on instinct, her eyes wide. "I've got to speak to the Minister."

"I'll call ahead," Cho said quietly, her face pale as Harry stood staring at her. With a nod Harry turned his back, beginning to make his way along the corridor.

"Harry, wait, what's going on?" Ron said, refusing to let Harry walk away.

"Not now, Ron," Harry said shortly, pulling away.

"Harry," Ron said warningly but Harry wasn't in the mood.

"Not now, Ron," he repeated loudly. "Just, leave it, okay. I need to talk to the Minister." And with that he stormed away, leaving behind a quiet corridor as everyone stood in silence. Ron turned, looking away from where Harry had disappeared off to and catching sight of Cho instead, her face still pale as she stood shellshocked. Ron gave her a small nod, a minute expression of encouragement. Cho gulped, before nodding in return and walking back to her desk, picking up the phone to make a call. Passing his gaze across the workstations one last time Ron returned to his office, quietly sitting behind his desk and leaning back in his chair, watching his open office door.

Ron was focused as he sat there, and so when Harry passed by the door, visible for only a brief moment, Ron spotted him immediately. He stayed calm, although inside he was beyond worried, and slowly got to his feet, quietly walking round his desk and out of his office, turning round the corner to see into Harry's.

Harry sat with his head in his hands, shaking slightly as he sat in barely concealed agony. It broke Ron, to see his friend in such a state, and he knew immediately the only thing that could be the cause of the problem.

"Harry," he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. There was no response. Harry acted as though he hadn't even heard him.

There was a long silence.

"Are you regretting it?" Ron asked quietly, quickly cutting to the chase as he leaned against the bookcase, watching Harry carefully. Harry sighed slightly, not looking at Ron as the uncontrollable shaking stopped, Ron's very presence seeming to help him pull himself together.

"Proposing?" Harry asked, not looking up. His voice was scratchy. "Committing myself to spend the rest of my life with the woman I love?" Harry looked up at Ron. "No, I'm not regretting it?"

"Then what's the problem?" Ron asked, his voice low as he wondered. "You're not okay, Harry. Something is bothering you and that something is about the wedding, I know it. That can be the only thing that would make you act like this. What's wrong?"

Harry pulled his head from his hands slowly, staring down at the desk unseeing as he thought over Ron's question. "When you were young did you ever dream about what your wedding would be like?" Harry asked. "Did you ever imagine the feeling as you stood there and watched your beautiful bride walk down the aisle, friends and family sitting and standing all around you?"

"No," Ron responded quietly, shaking his head. "I thought that was just something young girls did. Did you ever think about that?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it is something for young girls," he said sadly. "In truth I never thought about things like my wedding or my first child or my first grandchild. Not until Sirius died."

Ron had to hold back a gasp as he realised what Harry was talking about, the enormity of the issue slamming into him like a freight train.

"After he died," Harry continued, not noticing Ron's reaction. "I started to think about these things. I would imagine all these things and it would destroy me how I knew that of all my friends and family that would be there, Sirius couldn't. I used to have some of the weirdest dreams…" Harry tailed off, his mind faraway in memory.

"Tell me," Ron told him, surprising Harry from his introspection. "Tell me your dreams."

Harry regarded him for a moment, before nodding. "There was this one dream," he started, his gaze going to the magically enchanted window beside him. "It was the most common, I still remember it clearly."

"It would be my wedding day," Harry told him, his expression bittersweet. "I would be standing there in front of rows and rows of indistinguishable faces, men in suits, women in ballgowns, with this big bright light streaming from everything. My bride would walk down the aisle and I'd think I was the happiest man in the world."

Harry's expression darkened. "Then I'd turn to my best man for the rings," he said, his voice heavy. "And there he'd be, standing just behind this nameless being of a best man. Sirius. He was so clear, everything about him was perfectly as I remembered. He would just stand there and smile, and as he did the bright light of everything else would start to darken and grey and then all that would be left was him, standing alone in the darkness."

"And what then?" Ron asked softly, careful not to disturb him.

"Then I'd wake up," Harry said simply. "I'd wake up in the dormitory or back at Grimmauld Place and I'd just stare at the ceiling. Then, eventually, when I got too tired to keep my eyes open they'd fall closed and I'd see Sirius again, like his image was ingrained on the inside of my eyelids."

There was silence in the room as he finished, the only sound being the soft pattering of rain on the window, the sound completely artificial. Harry continued to stare into space while Ron stood watching him, getting only a brief glimpse into what his friend had been going through in those trying years.

"When was the last time you had this dream?" Ron asked carefully, a theory already in his head.

"They stopped when I hit twenty, more or less," Harry responded. "I've had them a couple of times since then, but usually for no particular reason."

"Until last night," Ron suggested, sensing he was right.

"Since a week ago," Harry replied. "It was when Ginny was away in France and I was alone in the flat. It came to me as a surprise, there'd been nothing to suggest I'd go back to it. But I did, and I have done so every night since."

"Does Ginny know about this?" Ron asked carefully, knowing better than to get too involved with his best friend and his sister.

"She knows something's up," Harry admitted, a frown on his face as he thought about what he was hiding from her. "I've woken up before her every day. Add that on to the fact that I'm so tired all the time she knows I'm not getting enough rest."

"Why haven't you told her?" Ron asked. "I thought you told each other everything."

"We do," Harry replied hollowly. "It's just getting close to the wedding now. So close. I just… I just don't want her to think I don't want to go through with it."

"But you do want to?" Ron said, hoping with all his might that he was right.

"More than anything," Harry replied sincerely.

"Then tell her that," Ron told him. "It may not halt the dreams but it'll make you feel better. And she'll feel better about being able to help you."

"What if they never go away?" Harry asked, his voice for the first time betraying his fear. "I can cope with it now but if this is going to be a constant for years and years I won't manage."

"It won't be like this for years," Ron promised him. "You've got through this exact problem before, I'm sure you'll be able to snap yourself out of it just as easy. And if that doesn't work we have healers for this type of thing. I promise you."

Harry looked at Ron as he spoke, desperately wanting to believe he was speaking the truth. Eventually a small smile worked its way onto his face, a smile that spoke not of happiness but of trust. "Thanks Ron," he said softly.

"Don't mention it," Ron replied, pushing himself off the bookcase and into a standing position. "Well, if you're feeling better I've got to head off."

"A meeting?" Harry asked, starting to get back to normal after his confession.

"Yeah," Ron replied. "I'm about twenty minutes late now, but who cares. See you tomorrow." Ron left the room, giving Harry one final nod of encouragement as he disappeared from view. Inside the office Harry sat in silence, staring unseeingly out the door.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Harry blinked, his eyes coming into focus as he finally noticed the person who'd walked in. "I just got back," he defended himself quickly. "I promise I haven't been hiding out here the whole time."

Ginny smiled, her expression telling him she understood more than he had realised. "I know, Cho's been keeping me up to date," she told him, approaching his desk.

"Cho," Harry muttered softly, starting to remember what had just happened. "Damn, I need to apologise to her. I said some things…"

"She understands, Harry," Ginny told him softly. "If you think the people around you haven't noticed how worked up you've been all week then you don't give them enough credit."

"So you know," Harry said softly, almost sadly as he looked at Ginny. "I thought you might suspect something."

"I get up when you get up, Harry," Ginny told him. "Don't think I haven't noticed you waking up at 3, 4 in the morning and trying to pretend you're still asleep."

Harry grimaced. "I wanted to tell you what was going on," he promised. "I really did. But I was worried you'd read into it too much, that you'd misunderstand what it really means."

"Harry," Ginny spoke. "When was the last time you held back what you were really thinking? I know how you think, how you feel. Don't you think I understand that you care about me? I understand, Harry. I understand."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I want to tell you," he said, his throat constricted. "It's important to me that I do. But not today."

"You've got something you need to work on," Ginny concluded. "Is it big?" Harry nodded.

"Bigger than anything I've ever had to deal with," Harry told her. "Tonight I have to be in the Ministry. I can't tell you why, I can't tell anyone why. I just have to be here."

Ginny nodded. "I understand," she told him and she meant it too, a lifetime of being surrounded by important Ministry and Wizengamot members having taught her to appreciate what free time Harry had. "I'm just going back to talk to the organiser."

"I'm sorry you've had to deal with her alone all day," Harry said. "And I apologise for the way I've been acting about the wedding preparations too. I'll be more cooperative, I promise. It's just now I need to make some calls."

Ginny smiled. "Harry, you don't need to explain yourself to me," she told him. "I know you better than you know yourself." She leaned across the desk and kissed him softly. "I'll see you tonight," she told him. "I'll stay up until you're back."

"I might not be back until very late," Harry warned her as she made her way to the door. "You should get some sleep."

Ginny smiled. "I'll stay up until you're back," she promised him, turning in the doorway to flash him one last smile before disappearing out of sight. Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling more relaxed than he had for quite some time as he stared out at the everyday bustle of the Ministry of Magic. Slowly, and with a heavy heart, Harry leaned forward in his seat and reached for the phone.

* * *

"Alright," Dennis said quietly, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone. "Okay, is there any specific time or should I just hang around?" He paused again as he listened to the response. "Okay, I'll be there," he promised. "Talk to you later."

He hung up the phone. He stood there, stock still, one hand still on the phone as he processed the information he'd just received and thought about the ramifications on his immediate plans. Dennis let out a puff of air, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he thought about what he'd have to do.

"Here's the draft from the speechwriting team," Lizzie told him as she walked into his office, handing him a scroll of parchment. "They said any comments would be appreciated. Also Cho just sent over another of Harry's assignments; all the details are in this folder." Dennis accepted the folder silently, dreading what he was about to say. "I just wanted to run through some plans for tonight as well," Lizzie continued. "My parents are arriving at six and-"

"I'm not having dinner with them tonight," Dennis said hollowly, glancing up and wincing at the look of shock and anger on Lizzie's face.

"I thought we'd been over this," she said thunderously, quickly making Dennis wish he were anywhere else.

"I just got a call from Daphne," Dennis told her, desperate for her to hear his excuse. "The Minister wants me to stay here tonight."

"Why?" Lizzie asked, her anger fading to be replaced by bewilderment.

"She wouldn't say," Dennis replied. "To be honest I don't even think she knows. All I can tell is that it's important." Dennis paused, his gaze looking over Lizzie's shoulder and across to the offices opposite. "I'm going to talk to Harry, see if he knows what's going on."

Lizzie nodded, her expression deeply disappointed. "Do… do you need me to stay?" she asked quietly.

Dennis shook his head. "No, you go see your parents," he told her, moving around his desk to leave the office. "And please apologise on my behalf." He stopped in the doorway, looking back at Lizzie's sad face.

"I did want to meet them," he assured her. "They're staying in town overnight?" She nodded. "Why don't you make room in the schedule so we can have lunch."

Lizzie looked up hopefully and, seeing his sincere expression, broke out into a smile. Seeing this Dennis smiled back, relief flowing through his body. Without another word he left the office, walking over to where Harry's office door remained closed.

"Come in," Harry called as Dennis knocked, prompting him to push open the door to see Harry speaking on the phone.

"So you'll do that?" Harry asked, holding up a hand to keep Dennis quiet. As he listened to the response Ron appeared in the office too, looking just as confused as Dennis felt. "Alright, call me back when you've done that."

Harry looked up at Ron and Dennis as he hung up the phone. "Are you both here for the same thing?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"We could be," Ron suggested, glancing sideways at Dennis as he spoke. "What is this that's happening tonight?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, surveying his two colleagues carefully as he considered Ron's question. "Close the door."

* * *

There was a short sucking sound, not unlike a muggle vacuum cleaner, as Teo Ochoa and Roberto Caro were deposited on the floor of the deserted Ministry atrium. It was very late, so late that nearly everyone had already left, only those that had been asked to stay behind still remaining in the building.

"Mr Caro, Teo," Harry greeted them after a moment, letting them reorientate themselves. "I hope you are well."

"Very," Roberto Caro said, his eyes scanning the vast Ministry atrium.

"I trust no one saw you as you left," Harry pressed on.

"No one," Teo confirmed. "We were careful." Harry nodded.

"This is Hermione Granger," Harry introduced, gesturing to where Hermione stood just a step further back. "She knows a fair bit about port key magic so she'll organise your trip back."

"Thank you, Señiorita Granger," Roberto said smoothly, his eyes quietly assessing Hermione as he spoke.

"It's not a problem, Señor Caro," Hermione told him, accepting the small disk from Teo that had served as their port key to London.

"Follow me," Harry told his South American contingent, turning and walking swiftly through the vast atrium, hearing their footsteps follow after him. He led them into an elevator, not saying a word as they filed in after him. Looking through the grate as it swung closed Harry spotted Hermione in the distance, watching them. For a moment their eyes met, before the elevator jerked to life and lifted Harry out of sight.

They made their way right up to the top floor, still in silence. Teo fidgeted nervously but Roberto remained calm, standing there as though this was no more stressful than standing in the queue for groceries.

As the elevator doors opened Harry swiftly led them out onto the plush red carpet that decorated the top most floor of the Ministry, muffling their footsteps as they marched towards their destination. As they passed by the communications department Dennis appeared from the doorway of his office, whispering urgently in Harry's ear, to which he nodded and dismissed him. They passed through the workstations and past Ron's office, where Ron was sitting quietly behind his desk, rolling Harry's rubber ball between his fingers. Not a word was spoken until they reached the Minister's outer office.

"Is he ready?" Harry asked Daphne quietly, glancing at the closed office door. Daphne picked up her phone and quickly dialled, listening attentively.

"You can go in," Daphne told them, putting down the phone as she did so. Harry nodded, walking to the office door and opening it slowly, leading Teo and Roberto into the Minister's office.

"Minister," Harry spoke, seeing the Minister standing in front of his desk. "May I introduce to you Teo Ochoa, my counterpart in the Bolivian government, and Roberto Caro, brother of the late Peruvian Minister Manuel Caro."

"Mr Ochoa, Mr Caro, very nice to meet you both," the Minister said warmly, although it was clear he was only being polite. "Harry, do you mind giving me some time alone with our guests?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, moving to exit the office, Teo following him as he realised what was happening. The Minister waited patiently as the door was opened and closed, leaving only himself and Roberto Caro in the office.

"So, Mr Caro, you've been shaking things up around here quite a bit today," the Minister commented mildly.

"Yes, sir," Roberto replied simply, standing respectfully with his hands folded in front of him. The Minister regarded him warily.

"Harry's briefed me on your proposal," the Minister said, cutting to the point. "You want to take your brother's place as Minister once we've captured the rebel leaders."

"Until an election can be held in two years time," Roberto added. "I propose to serve out the remainder of my brothers term of office before letting the people decide who they want as the next leader of their country."

"At the moment it seems as though your people would rather have Lazaro Casales as leader of their country," the Minister commented.

"Only an outspoken minority want this regime to succeed," Roberto argued. "Only those who still think that our country is poor, filled with poverty and hunger, and blame it on an openness to trade and negotiate with other countries, even when the situation has improved enormously since my brother took office."

"We have only a quarter of the number of assaults as Argentina, per 100,000 people," Roberto continued. "Less than a percent of our population are believed to be under the influence of muggle drugs. Our murder rate is less than a tenth than that of Colombia, a so called stable state."

"And yet there are nearly twice as many rapes reported in Peru than Argentina," the Minister countered. "As well as twice as many assaults as Bolivia. As for Colombia, your country trails them on gun related crimes, robberies, and frauds, not to mention that your life expectancy trails Colombia, Argentina, Brazil, Ecuador, Chile, Paraguay and Uruguay."

"I never said we were perfect," Roberto defended. "But we were on the right track. In the last ten years poverty in our country has dropped from 55% to 25%."

"That is impressive," the Minister conceded. "But that's not what you're here to talk about." There was a brief silence. "Why should I, after taking down a rebel power grabber, impose upon the people of Peru another unelected leader?"

"Because," Roberto said slowly, working through his answer in his head. "Because that's your best option."

The Minister raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

"Once Casales has been removed from power there will be a vacuum," Roberto told him. "While you attempt to organise fair elections there will be many people, some of whom share Casales's philosophy of governing, attempting to position themselves as de facto leader of the country. You need someone to pull the people together, a leader who will unite the country behind the ideals of freedom and democracy."

The Minister considered him carefully. "And you believe you are the man to do this?" he asked, wondering if he wasn't right.

"I am in a unique position to do so," Roberto acknowledged. "My brother was not just Minister, he was a symbol to the people of a fair and just society. He may have had his flaws, many of them in fact, but the people did love him. What you're seeing now is the rise of the extremist elements, leaving normal, everyday citizens of Peru fearful of speaking out."

The Minister considered Roberto Caro carefully, slowly leaning back against his desk as he ran an analytical eye over the man before him. "Why are you doing this?" the Minister asked softly. "You aren't a politician, or a leader, or even a legislator. You're a historian."

Roberto didn't say anything. He stood still, an almost uncertain look on his face that seemed so unlike the confident man he had proven himself to be. Yet he didn't speak.

"Manuel told me that he liked to look forward to the future, while you were always more interested in discovering the past," the Minister said softly. "He would never have expected this of you."

Roberto took in a shaky breath. "It's not what he would have expected that matters, Minister," he told him. "It's not about my brother either. Those are my people, Minister, and I will do everything in my power to help them. I never realised, until these last few months, just how important my country is to me. But I do now. So Minister, I'm asking for your help, so I can help my people."

There was silence. Roberto, panting slightly from his impassioned defence of his home nation, stood stock still, as though afraid a wrong move on his part might cause the Minister to decide not to help him. The Minister looked at him long and hard, before opening his mouth.

"Minister," Blaise said, knocking as he opened the office door.

"Yes, Blaise," the Minister recovered quickly, gesturing for Blaise to come inside. Blaise did so, walking up to the Minister and handing him a small note. With a small sigh the Minister put on his glasses and read.

"Tonight troops in Peru engaged in an operation to dispossess known Casales supporters in a small village of their weapons," the Minister spoke, not looking up from the note. "A young soldier, Jonathan Rose, was shot in the chest and passed away fifteen minutes ago."

The Minister looked up at Roberto Caro. "You better be serious," he warned him. "Because if you're not I will bring the full power of the British Ministry of Magic right to your doorstep." The Minister glanced up at Blaise.

"Tell the others they can come in," he ordered, taking off his glasses and walking around his desk. "And once we're finished in here I want to call Jonathan's parents."

"Yes sir," Blaise said, walking out of the office and leaving the door open. A few seconds later people started to flood in; Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Dennis, Remus, Amos, with Teo Ochoa finishing in behind. The Minister waited patiently for everyone to fan themselves out before him before starting to speak.

"Our adventure in Peru is one of mystery," he announced, every man and woman listening in on his every word. "We don't know what will happen, whether we have done what is right or have made a foolish mistake. Yet the only thing we can count on is our ideals, for if we believe we are doing right we are far more likely to succeed than if we feel we are in the wrong."

"And without further ado, allow me to introduce you to the next Minister of Magic for the nation of Peru, Roberto Caro." The room broke out into applause, each person in the room understanding not only what was happening, but the potential consequences, now and for the future. For the British Ministry had committed itself, more firmly than ever before, to peace in Peru.

* * *

Harry wandered up to his desk slowly, holding a hand over his face tiredly as he slumped behind his desk. It had been a long day, incredibly long. And emotionally draining too. Between his morning talks with that blasted Ministry organiser, the secret nature of his visit to the Bolivian Ministry and the stress of all these secret arrangements he'd spent the afternoon making, not to mention having taken two inter-continental port keys, he was utterly exhausted, physically and mentally.

"Hey Harry, that's me off," Dennis said, poking his head into the office briefly. Harry waved him away, watching as Dennis quickly disappeared out of sight, ready to finally get some sleep. Glancing at his desk clock Harry noted it was already past two in the morning. There wouldn't be much sleep for any of them tonight.

"Hey Harry," Remus appeared in the doorway, cloak draped over his shoulders. "You heading home?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice heavy with the weight of his tiredness. "I just, you know, have to work up the energy to stand up again."

Remus chuckled. "Well, make sure you do," Remus told him. "A bed's a lot more comfy than a chair."

Harry smiled. "I believe that." There was a pause.

"Ochoa and Caro are back in Bolivia?" Remus questioned.

Harry nodded. "The Bolivian Ministry, with US help of course, are in charge of Roberto Caro's safety and protection until we have the chance to install him as Minister." Harry scratched his chin. "Now all we have to do is actually win this damn thing."

Remus gave him a sad smile. "We'll get there," he assured him. "Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Remus," Harry replied, watching as Remus too disappeared from sight. With a huge sigh, Harry pulled himself to his feet, grabbing his briefcase and glancing once again at his clock. He paused.

Sitting next to his clock, wrapped in plain wrapping paper, was a small square shaped parcel. Curious, Harry picked it up and started to unwrap it, noting the rather untidy way in which the spellotape had been used and knowing who was responsible for the gift. Finally tugging the wrapping paper loose Harry found himself holding a simple picture frame in his hands. And inside the frame…

"Hey," Ron said from the doorway, having walked in while Harry had been distracted.

Harry looked up, his face pale and his eyes wide with wonder. "You did this?" he whispered softly.

Ron nodded. "Yeah," he responded. "I figured you wouldn't have any."

Harry looked back down at the picture in awe. "How?"

Ron smiled. "You remember that Christmas when I was opening up a chocolate frog and it jumped-"

"Onto your face," Harry finished for him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I remember."

"Yeah, well, dad had got this old muggle camera for Christmas and I took it over to yours," Ron told him. "Hermione took the pictures and I had Dean and Seamus produce them. The others are in that brown envelope."

Harry stood still, amazed at both what Ron had done and what he now held in his hands. "Thank you," he whispered eventually, managing to turn his gaze to his friend.

Ron gave him an awkward smile, clearly pleased with himself. With a nod to Harry he wandered out of the office, leaving Harry alone with the picture in his hands.

Harry set it down softly on his desk, careful not to be too rough with it. Finally happy it was safely secure on his desk Harry let go and leaned back, staring down at the picture. With a smile, the most genuine one of his long and hectic day, Harry grabbed his cloak and flung it over his shoulders, picking up his briefcase as he strode out of his office, leaving the picture of Christmas at number 12 Grimmauld Place, with himself and Sirius sitting by the fire, behind.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. A special thank you for the review pointing out my mistake with Columbia/Colombia. I honestly had no idea Columbia wasn't referring to the country and I had to look it up to figure out the difference so thank you for pointing it out, and as you'll see I've corrected for this in this chapter (Though I don't see a reason to go back and re-upload the last chapter specifically just to change it).

I hope you are all enjoying the story so far and I'll see you in the next chapter.


	14. Wedding

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Hey," Harry greeted as he walked through the communications centre, bag swung over his shoulder as he strode towards his office.

"What are you doing here?" Cho asked sharply, jumping out of her seat and following him as he passed. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Good morning to you too, Cho," Harry said in a false cheery voice as he dumped his bag behind his desk and started going through the files laying on top of it.

"You're not supposed to come into work today," Cho told him.

"It was a decision, Cho," Harry replied tiredly. "A decision I have reversed my position on."

"It wasn't your position," Cho pointed out.

"Yeah, you're right, screw what I just said," Harry muttered as he walked past her and out of his office, accepting a file from a member of the communications staff.

"Harry, Amos's orders were very specific," Cho continued to argue with him, following him through the various workstations in the communications centre. "He ordered you to take the day off so you could have some time to relax before your wedding day."

"Well that wasn't likely to happen, now was it," Harry retorted. "Morning, Ron."

"Morning," Ron mumbled as he walked past, head buried in a large file.

"Those new polling numbers?" Harry asked as he followed Ron into his office.

"Yeah," Ron replied, not looking up.

"The overnights?"

"Yeah," Ron repeated. "Most of them, anyway. There's some bad weather up north. We're still waiting on Orkney and Shetland, and Caithness, Sutherland and Easter Ross."

"They're both in play," Harry commented, looking at the map pinned up on the wall, both constituencies coloured in red.

"That's what we think," Ron answered, looking up as a member of the communications staff walked in and handed him a file. "Although not anymore," Ron commented as he read through the file, moving over to the map and tapping Orkney and Shetland, the constituency turning blue.

"Incumbents are up 11 in Orkney, up 3 in Caithness," Ron elaborated. "It's likely that neither constituency will change their representative, but 3 percentage points are easy to make up, even in a day."

Harry nodded. "Anything else interesting?"

Ron bit his lip thoughtfully, turning back to his original file. "Alea's dropped a point since last night."

Harry snorted. "Damn, so now she's only 32 points up."

Ron grinned. "Ash Tyler now has a twenty point lead," Ron continued. "David Spence was in a tight race but he's now up to seven points up."

"That should be safe," Harry commented. "I've got to say I was really worried when his challenger drew level a couple of weeks back."

"I wasn't," Ron replied, leaning back against his desk with a smile. "There has never been a more sly and cunning politician as David Spence. There was no way he was going to let himself lose his seat because of a little thing like the invasion of a South American dictatorship."

Harry gave a small smile, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Anything else?"

"Well," Ron said, scanning the file quickly. "Patty Green has pulled away, up 9. Darien Jewel is now down just 2, and with momentum so that could go either way."

"That'd be nice if it went our way," Harry commented. "Getting Forsyth out of the Wizengamot would be a real plus."

"Yeah, and what's more Petrov is gaining on Martel, it's too close to call," Ron added. "Alberts is done, he's out of the game. Mason is down 4, so she might be able to make a late challenge. And Stan Clinton is up 2."

Harry's head swivelled round. "He's up?" Harry asked incredulously. "I thought he was down 5."

"He was," Ron agreed. "But that was three days ago. He's been making steady progress, particularly with male voters in Barnsley." Ron took in a breath. "I know you don't like him, Harry, but if we can get Wilkinson out of that seat-"

"He's no better than Wilkinson," Harry argued. "No, in fact he's worse. We've figured out how to work round Wilkinson but we know nothing about how to deal with Clinton."

"I know, I know. I get it, Harry," Ron said agitatedly. "I get it, I understand. All I was saying was that at least he was getting Wilkinson kicked out and not somebody we actually like." Ron took a breath, watching Harry fume before him. "It's only two points," he consoled. "He's still in the margin for error. He might not win."

"And if he does?" Harry asked seriously.

Ron sighed. "Then we'll figure out how to deal with him," Ron told him. "We'll figure it out Harry."

Harry looked away, biting back a scathing response. "Keep me up to date with the polls," Harry said as he made his way to the office door.

"Harry," Ron called, pulling him back before he could leave. "We'll figure it out."

Harry nodded, before disappearing out of sight, leaving Ron alone in his office. With a sigh Ron rubbed tiredly at his eyes, looking over his hand as he pinched the bridge of his nose to study the map on the wall. Taking the file in one hand, his wand in the other, Ron went to work.

* * *

"Hey Neville," Harry said, knocking on the frame of the Deputy Chief of Staff's office door as he peered inside.

"Hey Harry," Neville replied, pausing in his scribbling to look at him. "Aren't you supposed to be at home right now?"

"That's what Amos thinks," Harry replied, walking in and taking a seat across from Neville.

"But you're here anyway," Neville replied.

"Yep," Harry answered flippantly. He glanced over the desk and sighed as he saw Neville raise an eyebrow at him. "Ginny moved to the Burrow this morning," Harry told him. "Something to do with not seeing the bride before the wedding."

"I thought it was you weren't supposed to see the bride in the wedding dress before the wedding," Neville commented. "Or at least it's bad luck to do so."

"Yeah, that's what I thought as well," Harry agreed. "And so did Ginny, but Molly…" Harry caught himself. "Mrs Weasley insisted. Something about bridesmaid central or something."

"It's best not to ask," Neville advised him.

"Agreed," Harry replied. Leaning back in his seat Harry gave Neville a sly grin. "You know Alea has dropped another point over night."

"In our poll," Neville pointed out.

"Alea's got her own polling?" Harry asked, to which Neville nodded. "What does her overnights show?"

"Down 2," Neville answered.

Harry winced. "That's not good," he commented needlessly. "What's that, a five point drop in the last week?" Neville nodded. "That's got to hurt."

"It's getting to her a little," Neville confirmed. "These days it seems like with every body returned from Peru another point is dropped." Neville grimaced slightly. "Still, she's heading for a 30+ point win to retain her seat and at this rate it would take until Halloween for her to fall behind."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "She has nothing to worry about. Your pal, Daniel Harrow, does."

"My pal?" Neville said questioningly.

"Yep," Harry replied with a grin. "You put a galleon on Harrow to win North Derby."

"Oh, I did, didn't I," Neville moaned, putting his face in his hands. "How bad is it?"

"Down 52," Harry commented with a laugh. "I've got to say, that's impressive. Managing to win less than a quarter of the votes is a real achievement, especially when you're running against someone as mind-numbingly boring as Chris Brownlow." Harry glanced at Neville in amusement. "Seriously, what were you thinking?"

Neville sighed. "I thought anyone could beat Brownlow," he complained. "We could have put up a bowtruckle against him and made it a tight race. How was I to know Harrow was such an idiot?"

Harry chuckled. "You need to research these things carefully," Harry told him. "You can't just jump in and hope you've guessed right. That's why I'll be getting your galleon."

Neville grumbled. "How much are you set to win?" he asked mutinously.

"Oh," Harry shrugged, counting up in his head. "About 20 galleons. 25 if Leyton beats Lacey. It's still too close to call but I know Hermione got it wrong to back Lindsay Lacey."

"Well," Neville said grudgingly. "At least I'm not your only victim. Say, how much is Ron due to win?"

"Do you really want to know?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"I think I can imagine," Neville said wearily. "It's a good thing these elections are only once every four years, otherwise the two of you would've run us dry."

"Yeah, that is a shame," Harry grinned back. There was a short pause in the conversation.

"So, what are you planning on doing today?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, my schedule is pretty empty," he told him. "I stayed in late to get all my work completed for when I left and Dennis is covering everything else."

Neville nodded in understanding. "Hey, how about you go to this meeting for me?" Neville suggested, rummaging around his desk for his schedule.

"What meeting is this?" Harry asked, sitting up straighter in his seat, interested.

"The BMRA," Neville replied, finding his schedule and pulling it out from under the rest of his files.

"The British Magical Research Authority," Harry acknowledged.

"Yes, them," said Neville. "They're coming in soon and I'm due to meet with them in about half an hour."

"What do they want to talk about?" Harry asked.

"Legalising the imperious curse," Neville responded.

Harry's eyes shot up. "You're serious?" he asked. "They want to legalise the imperious curse, one of the three unforgivable curses for which the punishment for using even once is life in Azkaban?"

"Yes," Neville replied calmly.

"Neville," Harry said exasperatedly. "Why are you even meeting with these people? This is ridiculous."

"Harry, it's the BMRA," Neville stressed. "These are serious people, the leading magical scientists in the country, in the world even. We should at least hear them out."

Harry regarded Neville for one long moment. "Okay, I'll do it," he agreed. "But only because I have nothing else to do. Don't expect anything from this."

"I wasn't expecting anything from this in the first place," Neville admitted, finally finding the file he was searching for and holding it out to Harry. "And if it counts for anything it gives me no pleasure to be passing this off to you."

"There's the pleasure of not having to deal with this yourself," Harry countered.

"Eu Contraire, I was quite looking forward to the meeting," Neville replied. "I thought it might be really interesting."

"Freak boy," Harry said jokingly, accepting the file and getting up from his seat. "I'll be back soon to tell you just how bad this went."

"Have fun," Neville told him, turning back to his work.

"Neville." Neville looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway to his office. "Happy Birthday."

Neville smiled. "Happy Birthday, Harry," he replied. Harry smiled at him before he rapped his knuckles against the frame of the door and walked off, leaving Neville staring out the empty doorway.

* * *

"Good morning, Minister," Amos announced himself as he walked into the Minister's office, interrupting a meeting with some finance personnel.

"Ah, good morning Amos," the Minister replied enthusiastically, his attention drawn away from the file in his hands. "Thanks guys, I'll call for you when I've looked through everything."

The finance personnel nodded respectfully before filing out the room, leaving the Minister and Amos alone in the office which today was filled with bright artificial sunlight from the large windows.

"What can I do for you, Amos?" the Minister asked cheerfully, dropping the files on his desk and smiling up at his old friend.

"I just wanted to stop by and let you know that Ron's keeping me up to date on all the latest polling data," Amos told him. "So far it seems as though all the major players are going to keep their seats, from both sides."

"Even Trent?" the Minister asked.

"His lead's been closed down to five points," Amos informed him. "It's unlikely he'll lose his seat but not out of the realms of possibility."

"Right, and you're getting this from the overnights?" the Minister asked. Amos nodded. "Well, alright, keep me up to date as the day goes on."

"Will do," Amos told him, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him. The Minister let out a slightly weary sigh as he slipped his glasses on and started to read through the report from his finance office. He hadn't got far before he was interrupted by a knock on his door.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Remus wanted to know if you've got a minute," Blaise said as he stepped inside.

"Of course," said the Minister, slipping his glasses off and rising to his feet as Blaise left to get Remus. "Remus, how are you?"

"Good, Minister, really good," Remus said with a smile, shaking the Minister's hand enthusiastically. "I simply can't wait for tomorrow."

"Neither can I," the Minister agreed. "Can you believe it, our little ones are now all grown up. You'd've thought I'd be used to it by now but it always catches me off guard." Remus laughed. "Now, Remus, what is it you'd like to speak to me about?"

"Well, you see, I feel a bit bad asking this," Remus began. "With Harry being on his honeymoon I know you'll be quite shorthanded and I feel a bit bad to be asking-"

"Remus," the Minister cut across him. "Is everything ok?"

Remus smiled slightly. "Everything's fine," he said, seeming to calm slightly. "I just wanted to ask for some time off next week. You see, Tonks won three tickets to England vs Brazil on Wednesday, and Teddy would never forgive me if I didn't come with him."

"Of course," the Minister said, smiling. "I understand perfectly." He paused as Blaise appeared in the doorway again.

"Dennis is waiting for you outside," Blaise informed him.

"Thank you, Blaise," the Minister replied. "Could you tell him I'll just be a second." Blaise nodded and left the room.

"You wanted to talk to Dennis?" Remus asked, getting an idea of why the Minister may wish to speak with him.

"Yeah," the Minister nodded. "We haven't yet had a chance to talk, one on one. I figure it might be a good idea to get that out the way now."

Remus nodded. "I'll get out your way," he said, standing up.

"See you later, Remus," the Minister called after him. "And have fun at the game. The Brazilians are a very exciting team, or so Ron tells me."

Remus smiled before disappearing from sight. The Minister leaned against his desk for a moment, waiting for his next appointment, who made his way through the doorway a few seconds later.

"Dennis," the Minister said warmly, shaking hands with the slightly overwhelmed looking man as Blaise led him into the room. "It's good to finally talk to you properly. It seems ridiculous how long you've been here without me properly welcoming you to the staff."

"Thank you, Minister," Dennis blurted out, seemingly unable to think of anything to say. The Minister gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa.

"Blaise, could you get the door," he asked, Blaise silently doing what he was told and leaving the two of them alone. The Minister moved around to the seat opposite Dennis and let out a big sigh as he settled into it. Shifting slightly to get comfortable, the Minister turned to Dennis.

"Dennis," he said simply. "I am sure you don't need telling what's going to happen after the wedding." Dennis nodded. "We're going to be without our Communications Director, for two weeks, and we're going to need someone to step into the gap Harry will leave during that time. It's a big responsibility."

Dennis nodded again. "I understand sir," he said quietly. "Harry has been getting me caught up on everything he's been working on recently so I'm prepared."

"Good," the Minister said approvingly. "And has he warned you about what will happen over the next two weeks." Dennis hesitated. "I see." The Minister paused.

"Once the Wizengamot elections are completed and we know who's going to be representing the people of our nation we have a transition period," the Minister explained. "Two weeks isn't long, so it is an incredibly busy time for the Ministry, in particular the Communications Director." Dennis gulped. "You're going to have to meet with many many people, Warlocks from the Wizengamot, to discuss what they want to accomplish, where we can work together, what our goals are. Do you follow me?"

Dennis nodded.

"It's a big job, an incredibly important one," the Minister continued. "For new Warlocks this will be their first meeting with the Ministry, and first impressions are key. I'd just like to impress upon you this point, and also point out that, if you need help, there will be some available. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Amos, Remus, they'll all help if you ask for it. So don't be afraid to ask."

"Yes sir," Dennis said, his voice stronger than before. "I understand. I won't let you down."

The Minister smiled. "Well then," he said, clapping his hands together and rising to his feet. "I'll let you get back to work. It's been a pleasure speaking to you, Dennis."

"You too, Minister," Dennis replied and, knowing a dismissal when he saw one, he left the room. Standing by his desk, the Minister watched as Dennis left, silently thinking that he was going to be fine.

* * *

"Good afternoon everyone," Harry said as he walked into the Murphy Room, the contingent of men and women inside rising to meet him. "I'm Harry Potter. I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"Not at all, Mr Potter," one of the men said warmly. He was a short man with a balding head and a thin face. His entire countenance just screamed of academia. "Please allow me to introduce myself and my colleagues. I'm Tobias Pearson, I'm Operating Director for Mental Health at the BMRA. This is my Deputy, Madeline Donaldson," he gestured to the woman who'd been sitting next to him. "My Research Coordinator, Donny Key," he gestured to the youngest of the group, an attractive man with wavy blonde hair. "His Deputy, Clara Reece," he motioned to an attractive young woman in a smart business suit. "Our Finance Director, Howard Church," he gestured to a chubby, grumpy looking man who hadn't even reacted to Harry's arrival. "And lastly our Head Magical Theorist, Phillis Kay." Harry had automatically focused in on Phillis as soon as he'd entered the room, the woman grabbing his attention with the most colourful set of robes he'd seen since he took Luna to Hogwarts Yule Ball back in sixth year.

"Great, well, I'm Harry Potter, the Communications Director for the Ministry of Magic," Harry properly introduced himself. "Why don't we all take a seat." The contingent from the BMRA did so and Harry sat opposite them, watching their expressions of nervous anticipation. "What can I help you with?"

"Ahem," Tobias Pearson cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to be difficult but I was to understand we were to have this meeting with the Deputy Chief of Staff. Not saying that I believe your presence to be anything of an insult…"

"Neville unfortunately has quite a busy day," Harry replied, not feeling insulted in the slightest. "He passed this meeting on to me. So, perhaps we can get down to the purpose of your visit."

Pearson shifted slightly before seeming to gather his wits. "Ah, yes, our proposal," he spoke, licking his licks nervously. "After much debate within the BMRA and much expert consultation with people like Phillis here, the BMRA would like to petition the Ministry for the legalisation of the Imperious Curse for use in medical magic."

There was silence in the room as he finished making his proposal and waited anxiously for a response. Down the entire length of the table the various representatives of the BMRA were waiting on tenterhooks to hear Harry's reaction, even Howard Church, who had yet to do anything since Harry had arrived.

"Why?" Harry asked, his voice breaking the silence in the meeting room. "For what purpose would you use an Unforgivable that could be classified in any way such that it would be of benefit to the one cast under it?"

"Obviously we wouldn't suggest to make the curse legal for just anyone to cast," Pearson said quickly, fidgeting under Harry's steady gaze. "Who could use the spell and what it would be used for would of course be closely monitored by the Ministry, and of course those breaking the law would be punished just as they are now."

"Great, more work for the Ministry," Harry said sarcastically, causing Pearson to flinch back at the response. "I don't care about rules and regulations, we can set those up later. What I want to know is why you think the Imperious Curse should be legal for anyone. What possible benefits could it have and why would it be within the Ministry's best interests to relax the restrictions on this curse?"

"There are many possible benefits to be found from the Imperious Curse," Clara Reece spoke up confidently, the Deputy Research Coordinator flipping her hair over her shoulder as she did so. "For the healing of the mind there is much to be gained from experimenting with this particular spell."

"Obviously we don't know anything for certain," Pearson cut in. "We haven't used the Imperious Curse so we don't know exactly it's effects."

"But you think there are possible benefits?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Pearson nodded emphatically, his glasses almost slipping off his nose.

"And what do you expect these benefits to be?" Harry asked, leaning back in his chair pensively.

"Who knows?" Pearson said excitedly and Harry was offered a brief glimpse at just what made him choose medical research as a career. He loved it. "So many of the hardest to combat conditions are the ones which play on the mind. Depression, Insomnia, Attention Deficiencies and even deficiencies such as Dyslexia, Autism, Alzheimers. There are so many conditions that pray on the brain and how we think that it is almost impossible to tackle these illnesses through known magical healing. We are forced to watch patients trapped in their own heads with no way of helping them except to make the material world as comfortable as possible. It, quite frankly, is a poor substitute for actual medical treatment."

Harry sat completely silent as he listened to the man speak, impressed with his passion and drive. It was clear that this wasn't simply an academic exercise to him, this was real. He wanted to help people, whichever way he could. He turned to Phillis Kay.

"Ms Kay, how much of a reason is there to believe that the Imperious curse could be used to help people suffering from mental disorders?"

Kay gave him a wide smile. "There is much of a reason to believe so," she said proudly, her head held high. "Even in its current form the curse can be used to stop people from committing suicide, or for that matter murdering another. I believe, with proper experimentation, the Imperious curse can be modified into a more subliminal form, allowing the user to put the patients mind at ease until it is able to tackle its illnesses on its own."

Harry nodded. "Is there any current work done on this particular use of the Imperious curse?"

"The Germans had a trial," Research Coordinator, Donny Key, spoke up. "Theirs was an investigation on how the curse could be utilised in law enforcement and was focused mainly on the aim of providing the German Auror Force with informants within criminal groups in such a way that not even the informants themselves realised they were passing on secrets to the GAF."

"What were the results?" Harry asked. Key hesitated.

"On the most part the experiment was a failure," he admitted. "The necessary strength of the Imperious magic was unknown due to a lack of past experimentation. The informants either were caught by their fellow gang members or became aware that something had been done to them that was affecting their day to day life. All subjects of this trial were killed after a while."

There was silence in the room again, the researchers from the BMRA looking more worried than ever off the back of Key's admission. Harry remained still as he took this all in, his finger tapping gently against the hardwood table as he stared off into space. Eventually he straightened up.

"For this to be feasible there will have to be incredibly tight restrictions," he warned the researchers, who all perked up suddenly at his words. "Who has authority to use the spell and what they can use it for will be strictly bounded. All records will have to be kept up to date and completely comprehensive. All work must be monitored by impartial outside observers to ensure that this opportunity is not abused."

"So, are you saying you are willing to think about this?" Pearson asked hopefully, leaning forward in his seat.

Harry sighed. "We've got to put it in our pockets for a while," he admitted. "It's the Wizengamot elections tomorrow, no one's going to have time to listen to you and hear you out." Harry stood up. "Get an appointment for after the election's over," he told them. "I'll bring some of my colleagues along and then we'll really get into it." He nodded politely to the assembled researchers before leaving the room.

"Are you going to go home now?" Cho appeared by his side immediately, although he was hardly surprised by her sudden appearance.

"Why would I do that?" Harry asked smoothly, continuing on through the hallway with Cho hurrying along at his side.

"You've finished with your meeting, you have no other work to do here. Just go home," Cho implored him.

Harry shook his head. "There's still a lot more to do," he informed her. "This is the Ministry, there is never a moment where work is done, just brief pauses where we choose to eat and sleep instead. Hey Ron, any new polling data?"

Ron glanced up as he spotted Harry coming from an adjacent hallway. "A lot of new polling data," he replied, a large file held open in his hands. "In fact, many of the constituencies have had several different polls since the overnights."

"And?" Harry asked, the two falling into step, Cho huffing as she followed along behind them.

"Not much change," Ron replied. "I'm still looking through the latest polls but it seems that things are stagnating at this point. Hey, watch it!"

An assistant had just bustled past Ron hurriedly, nearly knocking his polling profiles to the ground as he passed. As Ron cursed after the assistant, Harry stepped forward, his eyes going to the TV mounted on the wall.

"Ron."

Ron turned, his mouth halfway through forming another curse when he stopped dead, his eyes fixed on the TV. He stood frozen, his mouth slightly open as he watched the scene of carnage displayed before him.

Harry glanced past Ron to where Cho stood, her face deathly pale as she stared wide eyed at the TV screen.

"It seems I might have some work to do after all."

* * *

The silence in the flat was broken by the gentle scrape of keys in the lock. The sound reverberated through the empty house for a moment before the door was pushed open.

Harry sighed as he stepped from the darkness of the stairwell to the darkness of his living room. He gently closed the door behind him, mindful not to disrupt the peace of the silent and still flat.

Not bothering to turn on a light, Harry removed his cloak and tossed it over the back of the sofa, the soft glow of the moon allowing him to navigate his way through the living area and into the adjoining kitchen, where he pulled open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, quickly closing the door to cut off the light that was streaming into the room. Opening one of the kitchen drawers, Harry fumbled with some utensils before finding a bottle opener, quickly removing the top of his beer with a well practised motion before venturing back into the living area to settle into the sofa and take a long swig of the cold liquid.

Closing his eyes Harry leaned back, allowing his body to fall into the soft cushions of the sofa as he felt some of the stress of the day drain away. It wasn't the perfect solution, but it did help, and as he started to relax his body he felt his mind start to drift away…

Harry's eyes darted open as a shrill sound shattered the silence of the flat. For a brief moment he panicked, forgetting for a second where he was, but as his wits returned to him he recognised quite clearly the sound of the phone ringing. With more effort than seemed necessary, Harry leaned over the arm of the sofa to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

The sound of her voice was enough to cause all the muscles in Harry's body to relax again, and a small smile spread across his face.

"Hey Ginny," he said softly, relaxing back into the sofa. "How are you?"

"I'm good," was Ginny's reply. "Mum's been driving me mental all day, checking and double checking that this has been arranged and that will be there on time and that everything is sorted. I swear, she's even worse than she was when Bill married Fleur."

Harry chuckled, his mind automatically conjuring up the image of Mrs Weasley, dressed in her flowery apron, charging around the house marshalling the girls as though they were getting ready for war. "I'm surprised she let you call me," Harry commented.

"She didn't," was Ginny's reply. "She sent me to bed. Can you believe that? She actually sent me to bed, like I'm twelve all over again." Harry grinned as he imagined the stubborn look that he knew was on Ginny's face right now. "But fortunately she doesn't understand modern technology very well, so I was able to sneak my mobile up to my room."

"You're such a rebel," Harry joked. "What would your mother say if she caught you?"

"I doubt she'd be surprised," Ginny answered. "But I wouldn't put it past her to ground me, even on my wedding day. The woman's vindictive, Harry."

Harry laughed. He loved Molly Weasley, he really did, but he'd spent enough time around Ron in his childhood to know that she was one woman you did not want to cross. He'd always had a little bit of a buffer to protect him from the worst of her ire, but he still remembered the viciousness of the howler she'd sent Ron after they'd crashed Mr Weasley's car into the Whomping Willow. When truly angry she could give even Professor McGonagall a run for her money.

"How are you, Harry?" Ginny asked suddenly, breaking Harry from his thoughts. Harry frowned at the inflection on her voice.

"I'm fine," he answered, and honestly too. His day may have taken a turn for the worse but simply talking to Ginny had lifted his spirits considerably.

"You went into work," Ginny pressed. Harry knew better than to try and deny it.

"How did you know?" he asked instead, wondering if Cho had decided to rat on him. It didn't seem likely, but Cho had been quite adamant that he go home before the shit hit the fan.

"I listened to dad's address to the nation," Ginny told him. "You've written pretty much every speech my father has made for the last three years, I'd recognise your particular style anywhere."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I went in today," he told her. "I didn't really want to spend all day hanging around the flat with nothing to do so I hit the gym in the morning and then went into work after that."

"What happened?"

Harry sighed. "One of the camps set up by our armed forces in Peru was attacked by a band of rebels," Harry told her. "They were what's left of the resistance in the countryside and they had formed into a group and had been on the run for several weeks now. We were starting to think that they'd just made for Lima before they struck."

"I spent most of the day locked in with Dennis to try and formulate our message for when the Minister had to address the nation, and also help Hermione out with dealing with the press."

"I heard she was having a tough time," Ginny said softly.

Harry grimaced. "That's putting it mildly," he replied. "The press didn't hold any punches. They were questioning our commitment to the war effort, our tactical strategies and Hermione didn't really have that much she could give them."

"I'm sorry for her," Ginny said. "And what of the election? This must throw everything up in the air, and only a day before voting closes."

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "I spent some time with Ron before heading home, he's in a right state. No one knows anything anymore, the polling data changes with every new sample. Twenty point swings in the space of just thirty minutes and with no real pattern. We're getting models spaced just minutes apart which are completely contradictory. People who were dead and buried are now riding high and surefire locks for election are now in real dogfights. I honestly couldn't tell you what's going to happen over the next twenty-four hours."

"Are the Ministry going to respond to try and get some revenge for this?" Ginny asked.

"We are," Harry replied. "But the problem is we were also doing that before. These rebels who were responsible for this, we were searching for them anyway. Of course we'll keep searching for them but there is a reason they were able to survive undetected for so long and they could just disappear off our radar. I want them to pay but the sad fact is that we don't know where they are, and they've evaded all our attempts to find out."

There was a long pause.

"Harry," Ginny's voice sounded from the other end of the phone. "Harry, you can't worry about this. I know you, I know you'll tear your hair out trying to think of something you can do but you can't."

"I know," Harry admitted quietly, his head drooping at the fact.

"You need to get some rest," Ginny told him. "Go to bed, sleep well and when you get up in the morning things will be better, I promise you."

"Thank you," Harry spoke, starting to finally feel his body run out of the energy needed to hold him up straight. "I know you're right, I just wish that you were with me tonight."

"One more day, Harry," Ginny reminded him. "Come tomorrow we'll never have to spend a night apart."

"Okay," Harry smiled. "I'll see you at the end of the aisle. I love you."

"Love you too," and the line went dead.

Slowly, with painfully tired movements, Harry mustered the energy to raise his body enough to put the phone back in its holder, sighing as it fell into place. The temptation to just fall back into the sofa and let it engulf him was strong but, knowing he'd pay for it tomorrow, Harry pulled together the energy to raise himself to his feet, and make his way to the bedroom.

* * *

The next morning saw the communications office in chaos. There seemed to be three times as many workers in the area, all running around with paperwork flying all over the place. Cho, Colin and Lizzie could barely be seen at their workstations for the pile of files that had become stacked on them over the course of the morning and even the offices of the senior staff had been taken over by the polling forms.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had holed themselves up in Ron's office, assistants running in and out to pass them new polling data as the three of them sifted through it and annotated the big map as things changed.

"I've got incumbents up 6 in Lancashire, 7 in East Yorkshire and 3 in Hartlepool," Hermione announced, approaching the map with her wand out.

"Can we trust Hartlepool?" Ron asked. "Last I heard the incumbent was down by 12."

"I've got incumbent up by 1 here," Harry announced without looking up from his file as Ron accepted new numbers from a passing assistant. "I think we need to call it a too close to call."

Hermione nodded, annotating Hartlepool. "And Lancashire and East Yorkshire?" she queried, wand at the ready.

"I haven't got anything on those," Harry answered. "I've got that the challenger in Dumfriesshire, Clydesdale and Tweeddale is up 10."

"I've got up 8," Ron added, glancing up from his sheet. "Lancashire was too close to call from the overnights. I don't know about East Yorkshire but the numbers make sense given the current climate."

There was a brief silence as Hermione annotated the map and Harry and Ron continued looking through their own polling numbers. The silence was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hi, Neville," Hermione greeted as Harry and Ron turned in their chairs.

"Hi," Neville replied, stepping into the room slightly. "How's it going in here?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. "It's still a bit up in the air," Harry answered cautiously. "We're just trying to make sense of our polling data."

Neville nodded. "Harry, could I borrow you for a second?" Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded, rising to his feet and dropping his polling data into his chair. He waded his way through the piles of papers littering the floor and walked outside, where Neville was waiting for him.

"Harry, I got a call from the BMRA," Neville told him as they walked away, trying to get clear of the hustle and bustle of the communications area. "What happened in there?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked, wondering what he could have done that would lead to such questioning.

"I got a call from them trying to arrange an appointment for after the transition period," Neville told him. "Or rather, Hannah got a call. Did you blow them off?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not at all, you're getting this all wrong," he told him adamantly. "I'm actually on board with this."

Neville blinked in surprise. "You're on board," he repeated, his voice disbelieving. "You're on board with legalising the Imperious Curse."

"In certain situations," Harry amended. "From the sounds of it the Imperious Curse could hold the key for magic to help with mental disabilities. There was this magical theorist with them that said a more subliminal form of the Imperious Curse could be put in place to teach people habits that could cause them to break through things like eating and sleeping disorders."

"So why did they call for another appointment?" Neville asked. "I'd have thought you'd've wanted to take this straight to the Minister."

Harry shook his head. "Nothing's going to happen until the new Wizengamot has sat," he said simply. "I wanted to bring some more people to properly discuss this before bringing in the Minister."

"Do you want me in the meeting?" Neville asked.

"That would be good," Harry said gratefully. "I want to get Amos in as well, if at all possible. I feel his own personal experiences could be useful."

"Well, why don't you go talk to him," Neville suggested. "I'm going to go arrange the meeting now, so you can just get Amos to have Luna communicate with Hannah and find a time that is agreeable."

"Cheers mate," Harry said, leaving Neville as they reached his office and heading towards the Chief of Staff's office.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Ron's office Ron and Hermione continued to work through the polling numbers.

"I don't trust the numbers coming out of North East Somerset," Ron said, scanning through his file. "It has Davis up by 2 but woman are being largely oversampled. I'd say that number should be closer to 8."

Hermione amended the map silently, her eyes moving from scanning her own file to where Ron sat, head down and flipping through the pages in his hands. She bit her lip, wondering whether she should say anything. That choice was taken out of her hands as Ron looked up and saw her staring.

"What?" he asked, slightly defensively as though he'd been accused of something with her stare. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Hermione glanced away from Ron's questioning gaze before turning back to him, having found the courage to speak. "You haven't heard anything, about Peru?"

Ron's expression darkened. "No, I haven't," he said gruffly. "If you hadn't noticed I've been busy." Hermione wished she hadn't said anything. "Although I probably wouldn't have heard about anything anyway," Ron admitted, his tone softer as he looked back at his file. "My role is very domestic based. I'm not usually on the inside with things like these." Ron glanced up. "Have you heard anything?"

Hermione shook her head. "In situations like these I'm usually the last to know," she told him, although Ron already understood why. It was always important not to let on to anyone, including their own press, about a military intervention until after it had been completed.

"Do you reckon Harry knows anything?" Ron asked.

"Could he keep it a secret from us if he did?" Hermione responded. They shared a glance. They weren't entirely sure of the answer to that question.

"What do you think of Harry taking such an interest in these polling numbers?" Hermione asked, keen to change the subject. "It's his wedding day, shouldn't he be getting ready."

Ron shrugged. "It doesn't really take that long for guys to get ready," he commented. "And this is really important. I mean, whoever wins this election is going to be working with, or against, Harry for the next two years at least. And who knows, maybe even another four year spell after that if the Minister decides to run again."

"You think he will?" Hermione asked, watching Ron intently.

"I don't see why he wouldn't," Ron replied. "I mean, this is everything he wants, really. He always wants to help people and by being Minister he's able to help every magical person in the country. You can't beat that."

Hermione nodded in agreement but something told her that Ron wasn't as confident as he sounded, and that made her a lot less confident herself.

"Bradley is up 12 in the latest poll," Ron commented, his voice showing his disappointment. "I'd say he's probably safe."

* * *

"Hey Daphne, how are you?" Harry asked as he approached her desk.

"Good, Harry," Daphne replied, smiling up at him. "Ready for your big day?"

"More like wishing it would be over," Harry replied. "Right now I'm just a guy, on my own, but by tonight I'll be married to the most wonderful person I've ever met. I just want that time to come as soon as possible."

"Ah, you're so romantic," Daphne said with a wistful sigh. "If only all men were like you."

"If all men were like me this would be a pretty screwed up place, though, wouldn't it?" Harry joked back, causing Daphne to smile. "Anyway, the Minister wanted to see me."

"Ah, yes, he's just in with Blaise at the moment, you can go right in," she told him, gesturing to the door. Harry gave her a smile before walking in, knocking on the door as he went.

"Ah, Harry, there you are," the Minister said, looking over the top of his glasses at him as he looked up from whatever it was he'd been working on. "Blaise, could you perhaps step outside for a bit."

"Yes sir," Blaise said obediently, gathering up a pile of paperwork and leaving the room.

"Thanks Blaise," the Minister called at his retreating back before the door closed, leaving Harry and the Minister alone together.

"How did the attack go?" Harry asked once Blaise was out of earshot.

"I don't know yet," the Minister replied, removing his glasses and resting them on the desk. "Amos is coming from the situation room with news, he should be here any moment." The two men waited in silence, the only sound coming from the ticking of the clock as they waited for Amos's arrival.

The silence was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Minister," Amos greeted as he stepped in from the door adjoining the Minister's office to his own. "Harry, I'm glad you're here."

"What have we got Amos?" the Minister asked.

"The attack upon the rebel camp has been completed, and it is believed all the rebels have been either captured or killed, with no fatalities on our side, although there were a few injuries sustained during the attack."

Amos took a breath, before his face cracked into a smile. "Upon interrogation it was found that these rebels were the ones responsible for the attack on our troops yesterday."

"Yes," the Minister said exuberantly, clenching his fist in triumph.

Harry grinned. "So what happens now?" he asked, looking to Amos. "What do we do with the survivors?"

"We continue to question them, see if they know anything that might be of use to our efforts going forward," Amos explained. "Then we take them to Azkaban until such time as there is a Peruvian government we wish to negotiate with that wishes us to expedite them to their own prisons. Right now what we do is hold a press conference and have Hermione inform the press as to what has happened."

"We'll do that tomorrow," the Minister waved off. "I don't want this ruining my daughter's wedding day."

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry spoke up. "But you have to do it now."

"I'm sorry," the Minister replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Harry's right, sir," Amos agreed.

"Sir, with the way news works these days it won't be long until the press find out on their own," Harry explained. "We need to be the ones to break the story. We can't have it look like your daughter's wedding took priority over the safety of British soldiers in Peru. What's more a statement now, before voting closes should calm the reaction from the voters and allow them to choose their representatives through reason, rather than through panic and fear."

The Minister regarded Harry for a moment, leaning back in his chair as though to get a better look at him. "It's your call, Harry," he admitted. "I don't like for this sort of thing to overshadow my daughter's wedding day, but I trust your judgement."

"I'll go alert the rest of the staff to what has happened," Amos said. "Kingsley has sent an aide with a full report for you to read over."

"Thank you, Amos," the Minister said gratefully as Amos backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"You understand, sir, why we have to do this?" Harry asked. The Minister frowned.

"I understand," he replied slowly. "But I also understand that my daughter has dreamed about her wedding day since she was very little. She looked forward to this day more than any other, and I hate to think that I'm spoiling it for her."

"Sir, I think you underestimate Ginny," Harry told him, causing the Minister to raise an eyebrow. "I can't speak for her, but I know that this day won't mean any less to me because of this, and I think she'll agree. I'm about to marry the love of my life, there is nothing that can ruin this for me. Nothing."

The corner of the Minister's mouth twitched. "Sometimes I forget just how good you are with words, Harry," he admitted. "When speeches reach my desk I often just take them for granted and forget that there is an architect to these words who is at once more poetic and powerful than I could ever hope to be."

"Thank you sir, but most of your speeches these days are written by Dennis," Harry reminded him.

"The small things, yes," the Minister agreed. "But the big speeches, like the one last night." He paused. "I didn't feel much hope for the situation, Harry, not much at all. I thought we'd never find them, even though Kingsley assured me they were doing everything to catch them. But when I read your words, and when I spoke them aloud, I believed. It takes a special person to be able to do that." Harry blushed, looking down at the ground with modest embarrassment.

"You know we've always considered you part of the family," the Minister continued, smiling at the man, who he still remembered well as a boy, standing before him. "We have done since that first time you stayed with us, back before your second year at Hogwarts. There was just something about you, something that told us that you weren't just any 12 year old boy. Something that told us that what you and Ron had wasn't just the normal childhood friendship, and that you'd be with us for a lot longer than we could possibly have predicted."

"I say this because I just want you to remember that you've always been part of this family, and though when we first met I couldn't have imagined you or Ron or Ginny as adults, not only living in our world but also making it a better place, I can't think of anything I'd like more than to give my beautiful little girl away to, well, to a son in all but blood."

"This afternoon you'll officially become part of the Weasley family, but I'd like you to always remember you aren't just a son-in-law or brother-in-law, you are my son, and my sons' brother. You are a Weasley."

Harry smiled, trying hard to fight back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes at the words the Minister spoke with such heartfelt honesty that it was making him weak at the knees. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you, sir," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "That means an awful lot to me. You and your wife and your children are like family to me. Remus and Sirius raised me and I will forever love them, but I never truly knew what it was to be loved by a parent until I met you and Mrs Weasley. I never…" He broke off, the emotion making his throat catch. "I never could have imagined my life taking this path, but I am so glad it did. And in as much as you say I'm a Weasley, you are a Potter."

The Minister's eyes were suspiciously moist as Harry finished speaking, the tears glinting in the light as they threatened to burst from his eyes. "Thank you, Harry," he said softly, his voice gentle and full of love. He sniffed.

"Oh, look at us, being so sentimental," he chuckled, conjuring up a handkerchief from thin air and using it to bad his eyes, prompting Harry to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his robes. "You'd have thought we could've saved the tears for the actual wedding, eh?"

Harry laughed. "I'm sure we can manage a few more later," he said, the Minister smiling back at him. "I should go and start getting ready," he told him, gesturing to the door. "I'll start writing up something for Hermione to read from the podium."

The Minister nodded. "Thank you, Harry," he said as Harry made for the door. "And good luck." Harry paused at the door and smiled at the Minister, before disappearing from sight.

* * *

"Oi, stop pacing, you're making me nervous," Ron grouched as Harry continued to plough a furrow through the floor of his office, hands fiddling agitatedly at his cuff. Harry glared at him in annoyance before turning to the last occupant of the room.

"Are they ready yet?"

Cho shook her head. "There is still a lot of work before you can go down there," she told him. "This wedding is huge, there've been people working in the ballroom all day."

"I knew we should have eloped," Harry grumbled.

"Yeah, but then mum would have killed you," Ron pointed out with a grin. "I still think she murdered George for running off with Angelina."

"I met George just a few weeks ago," Cho said with a frown.

"Ron reckons Fred has been playing both twins since the wedding," Harry answered, shaking his head exasperatedly as Ron grinned. "Honestly, I might have second thoughts about this wedding if my soon to be brother-in-law gets any weirder."

"I'm surprised you haven't already done that," Ron answered. "How's Ginny doing?" He asked, directing his question at Cho.

"I haven't had a chance to see her yet," she told him. In between taking care of Harry, work, and getting ready herself Cho had yet to have the opportunity to visit the bride. "I'll just go see her now." As she left she heard Ron make a chuckling comment, to which Harry smacked him over the head.

The communications office was a lot quieter than it had been earlier. While it was election day pretty much every member of the department was attending the wedding, the result being that the communications office now held a large number of very well dressed employees as Cho made her way through the desks and out into the corridors of the ministry. There also she passed many well dressed ministry workers until she reached the press secretary's office, knocking and entering.

Ginny turned to face her as she entered, looking absolutely radiant in her flowing white wedding dress, wearing with it a dazzling smile.

"Cho, you look wonderful," Ginny said in way of greeting.

Cho smiled. "That's what I'm supposed to tell you," she replied. "You look gorgeous, Ginny. How are you feeling? It's a big day."

Ginny nodded seriously. "Yeah, it is," she said, blowing out a breath of air. "I'm quite nervous actually. There are going to be so many people there; I'm not used to being the centre of so much attention." She looked over at Cho. "How's Harry doing?"

"He's impatient," Cho said, with a smile Ginny reciprocated. "He and Ron have just been bantering back and forth, the usual. I get the impression that Harry just wants to be down there now and not have to wait."

"I feel the same," Ginny said before a knock on the door interrupted them. Hermione, looking stunning in her bridesmaid's dress, quickly entered and immediately started speaking.

"Your family are all here now," she informed Ginny in a business like manner. "Charlie had some difficulties with his international port key, it delayed him for a few hours but he's here now. And Fred and George lost track of time before Angelina pulled them from the shop."

"And they're all presentable?" Ginny asked, looking apprehensive. With brothers that included a curse breaker, a dragon handler, and the Weasley twins she had reason to do so.

"They're all fine," Hermione said to Ginny's relief. "I checked over them all myself, you have nothing to worry about."

"Thank god," Ginny said. "I was sure the twins were going to turn up in something completely ridiculous, like neon pink robes or something."

"I wouldn't have put it past them," Hermione said disapprovingly. "But Angelina has been running the rule over them, keeping them on track."

"A worthwhile addition to the family," Cho said with a smile.

"And hopefully there will be another one soon," Hermione agreed. "How is Harry?"

"Impatient," Cho answered. "He hates waiting for everyone to prepare the ceremony, he's not stopped pacing for the last half hour."

"They are finished with the preparations," Hermione told her. "The guests are all being escorted in so he can go down there now."

"Thank goodness," Cho replied. "I'll let him know." And she left, leaving Hermione and Ginny alone.

There was quiet in the room until Hermione spoke up. "How are you doing?" she asked, watching Ginny closely.

"I'm fine," Ginny replied, smiling back. Hermione frowned.

"There's nothing wrong with being worried," she said seriously, ignoring Ginny's cheerful expression. "It's normal to have doubts on your wedding day. You can tell me, Ginny. I'm here to help."

Ginny's smile faltered somewhat as she took in Hermione's expression and so she dropped it for a smaller, somewhat more real smile.

"I'm not having doubts," she told Hermione softly. "I'm worried, definitely. I can barely stand up, my legs are shaking so bad at just the thought of standing up in front of all those people. But I don't have any second thoughts about Harry."

Hermione smiled. "I didn't think you did," she assured her.

"Good, cause I honestly couldn't be happier right now knowing that I'm going to be marrying him," Ginny told her. "I honestly can't put into words how much I want to marry him. I just… can't wait to spend my life with him."

Hermione's smile matched Ginny's and she quickly dabbed a hankie at her eye so the water that had sprang up there wouldn't ruin her makeup. "The two of you love each other so much," Hermione said, her voice thick with emotion. "It's inspirational. I just hope that one day I can find what the two of you have."

"You will, Hermione," Ginny assured her, closing the distance between them and taking hold of her hands. "The day I met Harry I was as single as anyone, and now I'm getting married. It will happen for you. I know it."

A soft knock broke the silence that followed.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," the Minister said genially as he pushed the door open.

"No, of course not," Hermione said quickly, dabbing furiously at her eyes as she regained her composure. "I was just wishing Ginny luck," she covered herself quickly, turning back so she could face both the Minster and Ginny at once. "I'll see you down there," she promised Ginny with a smile. "Good luck." And she hurried out the office, leaving behind the Minster and his daughter as the last two members of the ceremony to come down.

Arthur smiled. "How you doin' Pumpkin?" he asked in a soft voice, taking in the sight of Ginny in her wedding dress.

"I'm doing fine, dad," Ginny answered, giving him a radiant smile.

Arthur chuckled. "I remember when you were a teenager and you were adamant that you would never get married, that it was a dated pointless tradition."

Ginny blushed slightly and looked down at her feet. "I was an idiot when I was a teenager," she countered, not looking at him.

"Yeah," Arthur agreed, chuckling when his daughter looked up and gave him an annoyed look. "But you were my idiot," he said fondly.

Ginny gave him a half amused, half exasperated look. "I'll always be your idiot, dad," she assured him.

"But now I'm being replaced," he countered. "It's a difficult time in a man's life when he realises he is no longer the man his daughter counts on the most." He paused at the look of pity on his daughters face. "But now I realise it's been a long time since you've truly needed me. You are a remarkable young woman, Ginny, and Harry is a remarkable young man. It is an honour to be able to give you away. I'm so proud of you."

Ginny's smile was brighter than it had ever been and she hugged her father tightly. "I love you dad," she whispered into his shoulder. Arthur tightened his grip on his only daughter and whispered back.

"I love you too, kid."

In a few minutes he would have to give her away, and do so gladly, but for now Arthur held on and relished in the moment as he held his beautiful, brave, caring little girl and savoured every last second she remained in his arms.

* * *

Harry breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. He repeated this process several times, keeping his eyes closed so as not to have to look out over the scene before him.

"Nervous?"

Harry opened his eyes and scowled. "No, why would I possibly be nervous," he bit back scathingly. Unfortunately, Ron took him at his word.

"It's a pretty big event," Ron pointed out. "Lots of people. Not to mention you're getting married, making a lifelong commitment…"

"Thank you, Ron," Harry cut in, feeling the anxiety creeping up on him again. He took a few more steadying breaths. "I am nervous, but could you please stop talking. Please."

Mercifully Ron did as he was told and Harry was able to return to his deep, steadying breaths. In, out. In, out. In, out. The anxiety started to lessen and Harry gave a subconscious sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing somewhat as he calmed down.

"You know it'll be alright," Ron spoke up suddenly and Harry turned to look at him. He was looking quite earnest. "You're ready for this." The music started.

As one the attention of all in the grand ballroom turned to the aisle and a moment later entered young Victoire, looking quite beautiful and grown up as she lightly tossed flower petals before her. Teddy followed after her, carrying a red velvet pillow with the rings upon it, wearing a look of such caution and concentration that Harry knew he was desperate not to mess up. Harry gave him a smile as he approached and received a grin back as Teddy took his place with him at the front.

"I know I'm ready," Harry whispered to Ron as Remus and Tonks began their march down the aisle. "I know that, that's not the problem."

"Then what is?" Ron asked as the groomsman and bridesmaid reached them, Remus giving a smile and Tonks a wink.

"I know this sounds weird, and I know I really shouldn't think it, but I can't wait for this wedding to be over," Harry admitted as Neville and Luna began their walk. "I just want to be married already."

"It's not wrong," Remus spoke up from beside Ron. "If anything I'd say it's natural to feel that way. I did." He smiled at his wife, today sporting a brilliant mane of blonde hair. "It just means you're ready."

Harry reflected on those words as Neville and Luna reached the podium and took their positions, and as Hermione started to walk down the aisle, a bunch of vivacious flowers held in her hands as she positively beamed at him and took her place with the bridesmaids.

And then the music changed. The wedding march.

As one the ballroom rose to their feet for the bride and Harry felt the breath leave him in wonder as she stepped through the ornate entry doors and walked towards him. He barely noticed Ron mutter something beside him, or Hermione shush him, his attention was focused firmly on the beauty walking towards him on her father's arm. Ginny looked up at him, and smiled.

They reached the front and the minister very gently leaned in and kissed his daughters cheeks before turning to Harry and clasping his hand. No words needed to be said. He already knew Harry would look after her. He gave away his daughter's hand and retreated to his seat in the front row, right next to an already teary Mrs Weasley and a group of proud Weasley brothers.

Harry didn't hear much of what the minister officiating said, so entranced was he by the beauty of his bride. He was only prompted to tear his eyes away from his bride by Ron nudging him in the side and jerking his head in the direction of where Teddy stood, holding out the rings.

Harry turned and, for one brief moment, everything froze. The ballroom and all the people in it stilled as Harry's gaze fell upon a man, dressed smartly in a black suit, smiling widely with eyes glistening behind well kept bangs of shaggy black hair. He looked exactly as he did in all those dreams that had haunted Harry about his wedding day, exactly like he had the last time Harry had seen him before he died.

Except there was something different now. Whilst in his dream everything else would fade away until it was just Sirius left, standing alone, now it seemed as if his surroundings were coming into sharper focus. He could see Ron, grinning at Harry's inattention, Remus, with a small, understanding smile. He saw Neville and Hermione and Luna and Tonks and as he looked out over the crowd he could see the Weasleys, Dean and Seamus, Oliver Wood and the old Quidditch girls. Hundreds and hundreds of faces stood out to him now, all smiling and waiting and all there for him. And for the first time since the dreams of Sirius had resurfaced, Harry was at peace with them. He turned to face Ginny and smiled, picking up the ornate wedding band and sliding it onto her finger.

* * *

The party was jubilant. Everyone was laughing and smiling and enjoying the occasion as they danced and talked and sampled bites of the delicious food on offer to go down with their glasses of champagne. Everyone was getting lost in the occasion and all thoughts of the election which would conclude later that night were gone.

For everyone other than Ron Weasley, that is.

The aforementioned Political Strategies Director was bent over in his chair, skimming over a handful of documents resting in his lap, a plate of various assorted foods left forgotten on the table beside him. He was completely oblivious to what was going on around him until someone pulled up a chair and with a huff sat down beside him.

"Honestly, Ron, you could give yourself a bit more time away from the polls. This is your sister's wedding if you remember," Hermione scolded him.

"I'm well aware. I was standing up there with them just like you were," Ron shot back, not looking up from the papers.

"Come celebrate, Ron," Hermione told him. "There will never be an occasion quite like this. At least make an effort until they head off on their honeymoon."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, cause that's what I want to be thinking about," he retorted. "My best mate and my sister off to Hawaii for two weeks all alone doing…" He tailed off with a nauseous look on his face. "No, I don't want to be thinking about that."

"Well, at least come and have a dance. Look, even Teddy and Victoire are doing it." That caused Ron to look up and, sure enough, he spotted Teddy and Victoire on the dance floor, Victoire looking adoringly up at Teddy who himself looked as though he felt like he was the luckiest guy in the world.

"I'm surprised Teddy dared do that with Bill so close by," Ron said, sounding genuinely impressed by Teddy's balls. Hermione smiled.

"I think Fleur is seeing to that," Hermione pointed to where the married couple were dancing not too far away, Fleur looking even more beautiful than she already always did and Bill holding her close to him, their faces inches from each other.

"Ew, I don't want to see that," Ron complained, a disgusted look on his face as he raised his hand to block his view of the couple, looking away melodramatically. Hermione giggled.

"If you had been dancing you wouldn't have seen that," she pointed out, laughing. "Come on, Ron, dance with me."

Ron hesitated, his gaze moving from Hermione, to the files in his lap to the dance floor.

"You can't do anything about this now," Hermione pointed out.

Ron let out a sigh. "Okay," he admitted, piling his papers on the table. "If I have to."

"That's what a girl likes to hear," Hermione answered wryly.

* * *

Throughout the ballroom many other conversations were taking place, and one in particular was held between two old friends.

"Molly, looking beautiful as ever," Amos greeted with a smile as he approached the Minister and his wife.

"Oh, Amos, you do know how to charm a woman," Molly replied, a happy flush to her cheeks as she watched the festivities around her. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much so, it is quite an event," Amos said. "The two of you are to be congratulated for putting this together, it's been a truly marvellous experience."

"I assure you, Amos, it was all Molly," Arthur spoke up, leaning in to kiss his blushing wife on the cheek.

"I have no doubt," Amos agreed with a smile before he was cut off.

"Excuse me, sorry," Charlie apologised to a number of important looking people as he fought his way through to his parents. "Mum, dance with me."

"Charlie, be polite," his mother warned him, though she was still smiling.

"I was dancing with Dominique but Fred stole her away from me," Charlie complained, finally reaching the group and pulling his mother exuberantly to her feet. Molly turned to look at Arthur.

"You have my blessing," he said with a chuckle. Charlie grinned and with that pulled his mother through the crowd and out onto the dance floor, making a bee-line to where Fred was swinging a happily screaming Dominique at breakneck speed.

"How are you holding up?" Amos asked, taking the seat that Molly had just vacated.

"Not bad," Arthur replied, his eyes still on the dance floor where he spotted many other members of his family. Ron had just appeared being half-dragged forward by Hermione and Percy was trying to do a very professional dance with his wife Audrey, which was being severely hampered by George, who was guiding Angelina through a quickstep that repeatedly cut across the other couple's path. "Not bad at all."

"I've heard that it is not easy to give your daughter away," Amos said, taking a sip of a glass of water he'd carried with him.

"No, it's not easy," Arthur mused. "But I think I'm a special case."

"Harry?"

Arthur nodded. "I imagine it's rare for the father of the bride to know the groom so well in these situations," Arthur pondered. "Harry's a wonderful man, and I trust him."

"Still, it can't have been easy," Amos continued.

"No," Arthur agreed. "But it's not like I wasn't expecting it. I've known for quite some time this day would come. I've had a lot of time to get to terms with it." There was a break in the conversation.

"I've just received some new polling data," Amos said, changing the topic. Arthur sighed.

"Must we talk about work," Arthur questioned, a displeased look clouding his face. "This day has already been blighted by the situation in Peru, can we not just wait before we go back to running the country."

Amos stared at the minister for a moment, before nodding. "Alright, we can do that," he agreed.

"You understand, don't you?" Arthur asked, looking over at his oldest friend. "You understand just how big a day this is?"

Amos nodded grimly. "Yes, I do," he said. "For the last few weeks I've kept on imagining what it would be like if I were in your place, if it were Cedric getting married…" he tailed off, taking a gulp of water to disguise his emotions.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said softly.

Amos sighed. "It's not your fault," he said matter-of-factly. "And for that matter the one responsible is now dead. That is a small comfort." He glanced at Arthur. "This day isn't about me though. It's about Ginny, and Harry too. You're right, we should celebrate."

Arthur just smiled at his friend and clasped a hand on his shoulder. No words were needed.

* * *

"Are these the latest numbers?" Harry asked, leaning over the papers Ron was holding out.

"Colin's been bringing them down to me as they come in," Ron replied. "There's more upstairs, obviously, but these are the important ones."

"Things are getting tight," Harry commented, to which Ron nodded grimly.

"Harry, put those away," Cho scolded him as she approached, Hermione and Demelza following behind her. "It's your wedding day."

"Sorry," Harry said guiltily, gently shoving the papers back to Ron who was himself getting a stern look from Hermione.

"Don't even think of looking at any polling numbers while you're off on your honeymoon," Cho continued to scold him. "You'll make sure he won't, won't you Ginny?"

Ginny had just turned to the conversation, having been saying goodbye to some of her Weasley relatives. "Oh, I think I can keep him distracted," she answered coyly, giving Harry a sly look and receiving a grin in return. Ron made a disgusted noise.

"It's almost time for your port-key," Hermione warned, pointing to the large gold band, roughly the size of a Quaffle, that was sitting on a plinth behind them.

"We should take it," Harry agreed. "Wouldn't want to miss our honeymoon."

"Definitely not," Ginny agreed.

"I'll see you all when we get back," Harry said to the rest of them, a group now including Neville and Alea. "Take care."

"You too," Hermione told him. "And enjoy Hawaii."

Harry grinned and together he and Ginny picked up the golden ring and, in a brief flash of blue, the two of them were gone. There was silence in the wake of their departure.

"Okay," Ron said, his voice suddenly serious. "Time for work."

* * *

The Ministry was quiet as the night ticked on. The deadline for the election had passed and the votes were being counted, leaving them nothing to do but wait. Most of the employees had gone home for the night, satisfied that they'd done a good day's work, but the senior staff remained.

Ron, Colin and Cho were out in the communications centre, watching a news station doing their coverage of the election. Across the room Dennis and Lizzie were talking quietly to each other, tiredly waiting for news.

"Anything?" Neville asked as he wandered into the room, his eyes immediately going to the tv. No one answered. No one needed to answer.

Eventually the rest of the senior staff gravitated to the communications centre. Remus returned to the building after having taken Teddy home for the night. Hermione joined them from the press room. Amos and the Minister wandered in ten minutes later, with Blaise following behind them.

"Amazing, isn't it." Ron glanced to the side where the Minister was sitting, having spoken without tearing his attention from the tv.

"What's amazing?" Ron asked, glancing between the tv and his father.

"That it's all come down to this," Arthur answered. "Months of hard work, weeks of pulling our hair out over the polls. And now we're here just… waiting. It's surreal."

Ron blew out a breath. "You can say that again," he agreed.

Arthur nodded. "After tonight it starts again," he warned, his voice carrying a harder edge than before. "It's going to be tough without Harry for the next two weeks, it's a vital time in our governance." His gaze moved from the tv to where Dennis was whispering with his brother. "Dennis is going to be buried under the workload that comes with Harry's office. It's going to be difficult, impossible for him to manage on his own. He's going to need you, we all will." Arthur glanced at his son out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you ready?"

Ron shifted in his seat, his eyes fixed on the tv. "Yes, I am."

Arthur nodded. "I know," he said simply, turning his attention to the tv again. They would spend much of the night and indeed the early hours of the next morning like this until eventually all the races were called and they knew who were the new Warlocks of the Wizengamot.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

First off I wanted to address the review from darkhunter999 about how I referred to the American Ministry. I know the US has MACUSA but since that stands for Magical Congress I've taken it to be a reflection of the way the US government is in the real world. Therefore when I say ministry I'm referring to the executive branch, i.e. the wizarding version of the white house, and when I talk about MACUSA it will be congress. Similar to how Britain has the ministry and the wizengamot.

Secondly I'd like to apologise for how long this update has taken. Unfortunately this is unlikely to change anytime soon. I have broad story and character arcs planned but each chapter requires certain things for the characters to actually be doing in terms of work and I'm struggling a bit in coming up with them. If anyone has a suggestion for any sort of political or social issue I could make a subject of a future chapter please let me know.

Thanks again for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter.


	15. Transition

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Who do we have today?" Dennis asked, sitting behind his desk and taking a sip of his morning coffee. He was joined by Ron and Cho, the latter of whom was reading off a clipboard while the former was leaning against the wall with an open file in his hand.

"Brownlow, Bruce, Mortimer, Hardy, Jones and Petrov," Cho read out.

"And how many more will there be after that?" Dennis asked with a sigh, rubbing at his temple tiredly.

"We're almost done," Cho assured him, looking up from her clipboard.

"But in the meantime you've got a lot of reading to do," Ron pointed out, gesturing to the files spread across Dennis's desk, each one pertaining to one of the newly elected Warlocks of the Wizengamot.

"Lovely," Dennis muttered, his eyes roaming his desk tiredly. At that moment Lizzie appeared in the doorway.

"Another Warlock to be added for today," she said, passing the file off to Cho and disappearing as quickly as she'd come. Cho flicked open the file.

"Ash Tyler," Cho announced, glancing up as she said the name.

"I'll take that one," said Ron, pushing himself from the wall. Cho pursed her lips.

"I'm not sure," she hesitated, seemingly caught in two minds. "You won't start a fight?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Have some faith in me," he argued. "Dennis has a full schedule and I know Tyler. He'll try to use this as an opportunity to get the drop on Harry, to get the upper hand before the Wizengamot session has even started." Still Cho hesitated. "I promise I won't start a fight."

Cho sighed. "Fine," she relented, handing him the file. "Just remember you made that promise." Ron nodded to her and slipped from the room, leaving behind a disgruntled Dennis and resigned Cho. "I suppose I'll leave you to it," Cho said, turning to the man remaining. Dennis just grimaced and grabbed the first file as Cho left the room.

* * *

Halfway across the ministry the situation room was filled with low murmurs. The room was packed with military personnel and as the door opened, as one, they rose to their feet for the Minister for Magic.

"You've got something for me Kingsley?" he asked as he took his place at the head of the table, Amos moving to the seat on his left. As he sat down the rest of the table resumed their seats until only Kingsley was left standing at the foot of the table.

"As you know Minister our troops have begun their march to the western cities of Peru," Kingsley spoke. "On their approach to Nazca, in the Ica region, scouts came back with word of a large number of Peruvian soldiers on their route north."

"So our men have come to a halt," the Minister asked, getting a nod from Kingsley in response. "I assume we are working on some sort of attack plan to overcome this group."

"We are, but it may not be as easy as that," Kingsley replied.

"How so?" asked Amos.

Kingsley answered. "The group of military soldiers is quite a bit larger than we would expect from a basic patrol," he said. "A group this large so far from the capital is suspicious, to say the least."

"You suspect a trap?" the Minister asked.

"Indeed," replied Kingsley. "Though so far we have not been able to detect anything suspicious, other than their numbers."

The Minister nodded thoughtfully. "And how long have you been looking?"

"The scouts returned just under an hour ago, sir." This was one of the military officers speaking. "They scouted to the best of their abilities before reporting back to the main force. They found nothing suspicious but have sent a more specialised team to have a look at the area. They will be due to return in no more than fifteen minutes, at which point they will report to Alastor Moody who will in turn inform Mr Shacklebolt."

The Minister stayed quiet, taking in the new information with a blank face, aware that every eye in the room was on him.

"Kingsley," he said eventually, turning to look at the dark skinned man at the end of the table. "Gut instinct; what's going on here?"

Kingsley took a moment to respond. "I am unprepared to answer that question at this time," was his measured reply. "It all seems very straightforward but my instincts are telling me something's wrong."

"Me too," the Minister agreed softly.

"What I do think is that, one way or another, the true battle is about to begin," Kingsley finished, his voice holding the weight of significance.

Arthur nodded. "Then we must be ready," he agreed, rising from the table and causing all the rest of them to rise with him. "Let me know when we've heard from the second scout group and I'll come back to be briefed then. In the meantime think up a plan to take these guys. One way or another we're going to have to go through them to reach Nazca and I doubt asking politely is going to do the trick."

He strode out of the room and down the outside corridor, Amos following in his wake.

"Gather the senior staff," the Minister muttered as they strode through the building. "They'll want to hear about this."

The Minister strode towards his office, walking past Daphne and Blaise in his outer office as Amos passed on the message to Daphne, and came to rest by his desk, taking deep, steadying breaths.

Amos followed after him.

"They're coming?" The Minister asked, turning to him. Amos nodded.

"They'll be here soon," he informed him.

"Well, that's good to hear," the Minister told him. He looked away in thought. "What do you think of this, Amos?" He asked. "What do you think the Peruvian's are doing?"

"Honestly," Amos told him. "I have no idea. I don't have the experience of Kingsley, I trust his judgement. If he says something seems off I agree with him."

The Minister nodded. There was a long silence.

"It'd be nice if this could have waited a bit longer," the Minister spoke softly. "I'm not ready for what is about to come."

"Would you ever be?" Amos asked. The Minister looked at him, acknowledging his point with regret.

As time went by Hermione arrived at the office, standing silently as she waited, and soon enough she was joined by Neville and Remus. They stood in silence.

"Is this everyone?" Amos asked, turning to the Minister. "How many were we expecting?"

At that moment Ron entered.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologised, businesslike. "What's happened?"

"I think we're expecting one more," the Minister noted, answering Amos's question and raising an eyebrow at his Political Strategy Director.

"Dennis is in a meeting," Ron explained. "New Wizengamot members."

"You don't think he should be here for this?" Amos asked.

"I think he's got enough on his plate," Ron told him. "Let him stay away from this for now." The Minister nodded.

"Very well," he said, straightening up and drawing the room to attention. "Just a few minutes ago I was briefed on the ongoing situation in Peru. A new complication has arisen, one with the potential to significantly alter the course of events."

"A large number of Peruvian soldiers have been spotted marching towards Nazca," he told them, to an intake of breath. "What exactly the purpose of this movement is it is still hard to tell. A specialist scouting group have been sent, we're expecting word from them any moment now, but needless to say it is concerning to see such a large force so far from the capital. We may be on the verge of our first all out conflict."

A soft knock sounded on the door and Blaise walked in. Quietly he walked over to the Minister, handing over a small scrap of paper with a few whispered words, before he retreated out the room. The Minister looked down at the paper, slipping on his glasses, and read. He sighed.

"Recent intelligence indicates that the force is being led by General Luis Alvarez, former lead military officer under the Caro Ministry." The Minister removed his glasses, rubbing at his eyes wearily. "Things just got complicated."

* * *

"Great, well, I'm sure we can work with you on that," Dennis said, slightly relieved. "Is there anything else you wished to discuss with me?"

The rather wizened old man sitting across from him gave a predatory grin, before shaking his head. In the last half hour or so Dennis had learned that this was just a character trait of the soon to be Warlock of the Wizengamot Garnet Innes. One he'd have to get used to.

"No, I think that's everything from me, young Dennis," he spoke in a raspy voice. "I'll be in touch, if I think of anything more."

"I look forward to your call," Dennis said politely, standing up to shake Garnet's hand as the elderly fellow limped from his office. Then he slumped back down in his seat. "Kill me now."

"Not quite yet." Cho had bustled into his office, looking busy and was, to Dennis's displeasure, carrying in yet another file. "You've got four more meetings like this before you can think about throwing in the towel."

"Fantastic," Dennis grumbled. "Who've we got next?" Cho handed over the file.

"Stan Clinton," she said. The name meant little to Dennis. He had, briefly, looked over his file but after meeting with so many of the representatives of the next Wizengamot, due to go into session tomorrow, the details escaped him.

"Warlock for Braintree," Cho tried to jog his memory.

"To be honest he could be warlock of my constituency and I wouldn't remember right now," Dennis told her. "Is Ron in? He knows all these guys like the back of his hand."

"Ron's with the Minister," Cho told him. "Senior Staff meeting." Dennis frowned, Cho catching the gesture. "He didn't want you to worry about it, you have enough on your plate."

"Right," Dennis muttered, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. "Well…"

"I'll leave you to it," Cho told him, dropping the file on his desk. "Warlock Clinton is expected to be here in fifteen minutes." And she left his office.

Dennis sighed deeply, leaning forward and bending his head down over the file Cho had left him, trying his best to take in the information written on the page before him. It was like trying to catch fireflies, the information just seeming to bypass his brain entirely as he stared blankly at the page.

Lizzie strode into the room.

"Morning Dennis," she greeted. Dennis glanced up.

"Where have you been?" He asked. He had not seen her practically all day.

"I was talking to Demelza, if you must know," Lizzie told him. "She's having a hard time, what with the breakup and all."

"Again?" Dennis muttered, rolling his eyes. The on again off again nature of Demelza and Seamus's relationship had become something of a running joke in the Ministry. "Do you really think that's worth taking the time out of doing your job? It's not like anything you say will make a difference."

"I was comforting her," Lizzie said indignantly. "And that certainly will make a difference."

"For, like, five minutes," Dennis argued. "You know by the end of the week she and Seamus will be back together again."

"She needed me," Lizzie said stubbornly.

"I need you," Dennis shot back.

"You have Cho helping you," Lizzie told him. "She'll look after you better than I can." Maybe so, but Dennis didn't feel any better knowing that.

"Anyway, Stan Clinton is here," Lizzie told him. Dennis closed his eyes wearily.

"Now?" He asked, wondering whether he'd actually make it to the end of the day. "Fine." He pulled open a drawer and stuffed Clinton's file inside. "Send him in."

Lizzie left, Dennis quickly pulling himself together and brushing down his clothes as he stood up to greet his guest. "Warlock Clinton," he greeted.

Stan Clinton was a tall man, an intimidating presence with sharp, angular features and dark, cunning eyes. "Mr Creevey." The new warlock shook Dennis's hand with no hint of emotion on his face, his grip strong, before he took a seat, uninvited, causing Dennis to fall back into his own chair.

"It's a pleasure to have you here," Dennis said politely, doing his best to keep up a warm facade. "Have you been to the Ministry before?" Clinton just favoured him with a blank look.

"Okay then," Dennis muttered. Evidently this wasn't going to be the friendliest meeting in the world. "Okay, so, I'm sure you know what this meeting is about. You are beginning your first term in the Wizengamot tomorrow and, as we will no doubt be working together in the future to create and pass bills into law, now is a good opportunity for us as a Ministry to gage your level of interest in certain areas of policy, looking for things that we potentially could agree on and work together on for the good of our nation."

"I'm aware," Clinton said simply, his face still a blank mask. "Although I am somewhat perturbed to find myself meeting with you. I had expected someone more senior in the administration would be holding this discussion. You have, of course, been working here for less than a year, am I correct."

"That's right," Dennis said warily. "I'm the Deputy Communications Director. Under normal circumstances you'd be meeting with my boss, Communications Director Harry Potter, but he is actually on leave, his honeymoon. You might have heard about the wedding." Clinton gave no response.

"Anyway, since he's not here it has been left to me to have these discussions, and of course I will be reporting back to Harry once he has returned as he will be the main point of contact between the Wizengamot and the Ministry."

Dennis finished speaking, waiting patiently for his companion to respond, trying to read his blank expression for some clue as to what he was thinking. Yet Stan Clinton had not changed expression since the moment he'd walked into the room.

"How old are you, Creevey?" Clinton asked. Dennis bristled.

"I don't see why that matters," he replied. Clinton left out a puff of air.

"Of course you don't," he murmured, looking away in disinterest. Then he stood up. "You are young, and naive, and not a suitable official to be conducting these discussions," he said, staring down at Dennis with a cold look. "If you would report to your superiors that, should they wish to actually meet with me and not simply put on a show of cooperation, I'll be by my phone should they find someone appropriate with which to meet me." He nodded his head. "Creevey." And he strode out of the room.

Dennis slumped in his seat. Could that meeting have gone worse? He doubted it. And it was not as though these meetings did not matter. Once Harry returned from holiday he'd be left picking up the pieces of Dennis's mistakes, and then what would he think of him.

Dennis looked up from his desk, almost desperately looking for something that might turn his day around. Whatever it was he was expecting he never found it. Instead his eyes fell upon the empty seat that sat by Lizzie's desk, and Dennis's heart sank deeper in his chest.

* * *

The Situation Room was full of bustle and purpose, various military experts speaking in low, urgent tones, in startling contrast to the lack of activity on the map in front of them. For a long time now British forces had been at a standstill, holding their line and unwilling to make any move forward until they had their orders. Meanwhile the Minister sat there wondering just what those orders were going to be.

"Alvarez's forces seem to have come to a standstill," Amos murmured to him, repeating information the Minister had already read in the reports. "That could mean any number of things but it does suggest that they are unwilling to go on the offensive."

"Unless they're waiting for something," the Minister muttered. "They could very well have sent out groups to sabotage or catch us by surprise."

"There's been no evidence of that," Amos assured him.

"Of course," the Minister muttered. "If there was it wouldn't be a surprise."

At that moment Kingsley Shacklebolt strode into the room, files tucked under his arm and looking decisively.

"What's the news, Kingsley?" The Minister asked, the whole room's attention focused on the dark skinned wizard.

"So far it seems like the situation is stable," Kingsley announced. "Judging from the way the Peruvian forces have set up they do not appear to be preparing for an attack. Of course this could all just be to lull is into a false sense of security, but we are doing our all to make sure we are looking at this from every angle. We won't be caught by surprise."

"And what do you think the purpose of this force is?" The Minister asked. "Surely fighting against us would make the most sense but if they are not set up to attack then surely that would suggest they've got something planned."

"Not necessarily," Kingsley told him. "While obviously it is not a possibility we can rule out at the same time it could be entirely possible that this force is designed simply to halt our progression. In order to continue towards Lima we need to bypass these soldiers. If they do not allow us to do so it would require us to go on the offensive, and given their greater familiarity with the area it could lead to heavy casualties if we go in blind."

"So you're saying that this is a blockade, essentially," the Minister clarified.

"It is not one that holds the traditional hallmarks of defensive positioning," Kingsley admitted. "They have no specialised defensive equipment and it could be possible that this is a preliminary force, designed to slow us down and hold us back long enough for more specialised units to join them."

"And what weapons do they have?" The Minister asked. "You say they don't appear set up for an attack, could that change?"

"Undoubtedly," Kingsley replied. "But it would be difficult, it would take time, and such an attack would end up being poorly organised. Their range of weaponry is surprisingly haphazard. They appear to have a bit of everything, mostly wands and muggle weapons. This is part of what suggests this is actually only a preliminary force, thrown together hastily with the objective purely to slow us down."

"And General Alvarez?" Amos questioned. "You don't find it suspicious that the lead Military Officer is leading the group."

"Lead Military Officer under Manuel Caro," Kingsley reminded him. "We do not know what designation he has now. If he were not a force behind the uprising to begin with it is possible he has dropped rank to those closer and more involved with Lazaro Casales."

Amos glanced to the Minister. A small nod indicated that this made sense. The Minister sighed.

"So what do you want to do, Kingsley?" He asked heavily. "I imagine an attack, judging from what you've said."

"Indeed, and soon," Kingsley informed him. "If the purpose of this force is to slow us down then waiting will simply allow the Casales regime to build their resources and allow Alvarez's forces to solidify their position. Meanwhile our men stay standing still, an easy target to any potential surprise attacks. I suggest we build a plan of attack and execute it as soon as possible."

"And how soon is that?" The Minister asked.

"Ideally, later today," Kingsley told him. "Due to the time difference that should be doable and it would almost guarantee that we hit them when they're at their weakest." He waited for the Minister's response.

"I'm not keen on this," he told the room, sighing deeply. "I don't want to rush into anything, particularly when people's lives are at risk. But if you can come up with a strategy, taking into account for any potential traps or surprise attacks… then I suppose it is the best choice." He stood up.

"Come to me before the end of the day, Kingsley," the Minister said. "And if I am not satisfied with the plan you propose then we stay where we are. We've lost too many people already to be reckless."

* * *

Ron strode briskly through the hallways, heading back to his office from Meeting Room 1, when he was surprised by someone falling into step beside him.

"Hey Ron, fancy hearing something interesting," Sophie Turnbull, reporter working in the Ministry, asked. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"What do you consider interesting?" He responded. His general relations with the press weren't fantastic, he knew that he often came off to the public as somewhat rough and uncouth, but the reporters that worked within the walls of the Ministry knew him better than that. Still, usually they talked to Hermione before him.

"There's been something going about in the press room," Sophie told him. "Something I think you might be interested in."

"Are you going to tell me?" Ron asked. "Or are you just going to continue teasing?"

"Admittedly teasing was on my agenda," Sophie said with a smirk. "But no, this is actually a bit more serious and I thought you should get a heads up."

"About what?" Ron asked warily. He didn't like where this was going.

"There's been talk about Dennis," Sophie told him. "Your Dennis, I mean, not ours. Dennis Creevey. There's been some unflattering things said."

"Where are you hearing this from?" Ron asked.

"Donald got the call," Sophie told him. "Apparently Dennis has been meeting with some Warlocks…"

"I know that," Ron said.

"And apparently they haven't been going well," Sophie said. "There's been some questions about his inexperience before, ever since Harry went on his honeymoon, and apparently it's started to blow up into something now."

"You can't give me some details?" Ron asked.

"I've given you everything I'm aware of," Sophie said defensively. "Donald's writing it up, I suppose you could talk to him, if you really think he might be willing to give up on a story like this." That seemed unlikely. "Anyway, I just wanted to give you a heads up. I know things have been difficult recently and I assumed you were in charge of all that stuff Harry left behind."

"Yeah, thanks," Ron said, grateful for her forethought of warning him. "Yeah, I'll look into it. Sounds like a bit of nothing, to be honest, but…"

"That's what I thought," Sophie agreed. "But, you know, just because something's nothing doesn't mean it doesn't matter. Anyway, I've got to get back to work. See you around."

Ron waved goodbye to Sophie, pondering what she'd told him. It was far from good news, even if it really was nothing it would still cast doubt over Dennis's place in the administration. He needed to act quickly.

He headed to Hermione's office.

"What's going on here?" He asked, frowning as he came across Demelza's desk, where she was joined by Lizzie, the two girls talking in hushed voices.

"Hey Ron, we're just talking," Lizzie told him. "Demelza is having a bit of a hard time."

"What?" Ron muttered. Lizzie dropped her voice to a whisper.

"Seamus," she told him, Demelza's face screwing up at just the sound of his name. Ron frowned.

"What's that got to do with anything?" He said, bewildered. "Lizzie, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Dennis, he has a hard enough time as it is without you going wandering off like this."

"He's got Cho," Lizzie said defensively.

"So?" Ron retorted. "Doesn't matter who he's got, you are his assistant. It is your job to help him, all the time. You can't just pass him off to Cho because Harry's not here. For god's sake, Lizzie, pull yourself together." Lizzie's mouth snapped shut.

"Go," Ron said, gesturing her away from the desk. "Go do your job, for the love of god." Lizzie stood and walked away without a word, her expression taught.

"And you," Ron said, turning to Demelza who looked up at him with wide eyes. "I'm sorry about Seamus, really, I've been there, but you can't go acting like this at work. In your own time, fine, but we're really busy here, in case you hadn't noticed, and while you are here we need you working, and not distracting your coworkers." Ron sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Is Hermione in?"

Demelza nodded, her face pale, and Ron started to feel himself calm down again.

"Okay," he said, turning to leave. "I'm sorry, just…" He sighed again. There was nothing he could say.

He walked into Hermione's office.

"What was that?" Hermione asked as Ron shut the door behind him, looking only slightly alarmed by his outburst. After all, she'd argued with him plenty of times during their years at Hogwarts.

"Nothing," Ron muttered. "Just setting some things straight. You wouldn't believe some of the behaviour going on around here. Hasn't anyone noticed we're understaffed?"

"Is this about Lizzie?" Hermione asked, understanding dawning. "She's been around a lot. I've tried to hint that she should be working but… well, I suppose you would have done a better job getting through to her." She shifted some papers before looking up at him. "You here for something?"

Ron nodded. "I was talking with Sophie in the hallway," he told her, taking a seat. "Apparently there's some story about to break about Dennis and his meetings with the Warlocks."

"Not a good one, I take it," Hermione guessed. "Did she say who was writing it?"

"Donald," Ron told her. "She couldn't really give me anything."

"Donald's notoriously secretive about his stories," Hermione commented.

"Well, I suppose that answers the question about whether you'll be able to get anything out of him," Ron noted.

"Pretty much," Hermione grimaced. "Have you spoken to Dennis about this?"

"That's my next port of call," Ron told her. "I'm sure it's nothing, I was kind of wanting to avoid mentioning it to Dennis at all. You know how difficult all this is and Dennis really has been thrown into the deep end a bit."

"Harry did prepare him," Hermione commented.

"Nothing can truly prepare you for dealing with the Wizengamot," Ron said sagely. "Seriously, there are some real weirdos in there and that's before we even get to the difficult ones. I took Ash Tyler off Dennis's schedule."

"Oh lord," Hermione muttered. Ron rolled his eyes.

"I'm just saying that Dennis has enough on his plate," he said. "I'd prefer not to add more if I can avoid it."

"Hence why you kept him out of the Senior Staff meeting," Hermione commented. Ron nodded. "I did wonder if that was wise, he was involved in the whole thing with Roberto Caro."

"He's got enough on his plate right now," Ron reiterated. "And the mess in Peru is not something I'd want to inflict on anyone." Hermione gave him a twisted smile.

"Fair enough," she admitted. "And for what it's worth I'll talk to Donald. Just don't hold your breath."

"I won't," Ron promised, rising to his feet. "I'll have to speak to Dennis anyway about this." He nodded to Hermione. "See you around." And he left her office.

The familiar path from Hermione's office to the communications bullpen passed in just a minute and soon enough Ron found himself surrounded by his colleagues.

"You've got Ash Tyler in half an hour," Colin reminded him as he passed.

"I remember," Ron assured him, walking around, past Cho, towards Dennis's office. "Dennis, can I have a word?"

Dennis was sitting behind his desk, talking to Lizzie, and stood up upon noticing Ron enter the room.

"Of course," he said, quickly muttering something to Lizzie and passing her a file before the girl turned and hurried out the room, head down to avoid eye contact, closing the door behind her as she left.

There was a brief silence.

"What's going on?" Dennis asked nervously. Ron didn't answer immediately, walking over to take a seat at Dennis's desk, Dennis sitting too.

"I've heard some chatter in the press," Ron commented, trying to find the best way to phrase his concerns. "It's about the meetings with the Wizengamot and I was wondering if you'd heard anything unusual that might have anything to do with it."

Dennis grimaced. "I think so," he muttered. Ron watched him patiently.

"What?" He asked eventually as Dennis continued to stay silent. Dennis took a moment to respond.

"Stan Clinton," he muttered eventually, not meeting Ron's eyes.

Of course, Ron thought, that made perfect sense. Long before the elections had concluded he and Harry had known about the potential problems Stan Clinton could cause. It seemed he'd already started.

"And what about him?" Ron asked. "What happened?"

Again Dennis seemed unwilling to speak, looking everywhere but at Ron, and again his words seemed to be dragged out against his will.

"He wasn't particularly impressed," Dennis said eventually. "With me, I mean. I think he got the impression that he was going to be meeting with someone more senior, like you or Harry, and that I was… young, immature, naive, naive's the word he used." Dennis sighed, rubbing his forehead. "He said he wouldn't talk to me, that he'd only talk if we arranged someone more senior to speak with him."

Ron leaned back in his chair, the picture starting to come together.

"He's gone to the papers," he told Dennis, Dennis looking up in shock. "I don't know exactly what he's said but he's given the story to Donald, whatever it may be. We likely won't know what it says until tomorrow morning."

"How bad is this?" Dennis asked, dreading the answer.

"Pretty bad," Ron admitted. "Donald's a fair reporter but he's getting his information predominantly from one side. The story won't make you look good, probably won't make the Ministry look good either. We're going to have to get something out to counter it. I've already given Hermione a heads up that something might be going down."

The phone rang.

"Hello," Dennis answered, holding it to his ear. Then he held it out to Ron. "It's for you." Ron accepted it gently and held it to his ear.

"Hello."

"Ron," it was Cho at the other end of the line. "I've got Warlock Stan Clinton out here with me." Of course she did.

"What does he want?" Ron asked, trying to keep his annoyance from showing in his tone.

"He wants to speak with you with regard to ways he and the Ministry could work together upon the commencement of the next session of the Wizengamot."

Ron sat back further in his seat, stretching the phone cord to its limit, and considered his options.

"See him to my office," he said eventually, a displeased expression on his face. "I'll be with him in a moment." And he hung up the phone.

"Stan Clinton is outside," Ron told Dennis, who had been waiting impatiently for him to get off the phone.

"What does he want?" Dennis asked warily.

"To meet with me," Ron told him. He looked across to the younger boy.

"I'm taking the meeting in my office," he announced, rising to his feet. "You just focus on your next meeting and we'll talk about this later." He turned and left, leaving behind a pale faced Dennis as he stepped out into the bullpen.

"He's in your office," Cho told him as he passed, the door to his office half closed so as to hide his target from view.

"Ron, do you want me to reschedule Tyler?" Colin asked.

"How long have I got?" Ron asked.

"Twenty minutes." Ron glanced at his watch.

"Keep the appointment," he said. "This shouldn't take long." He strode purposefully into his office.

"Stan," he greeted, surveying the foreboding man as he closed his door behind him.

"Ronald," Clinton replied politely, holding out his hand to shake. Ron ignored it, rounding his desk and sitting down, not bothering to offer an invitation to his companion.

"Lets not mess around with any false pretences," Ron said, his expression harsh. "I don't like you, you don't like me, no number of platitudes will ever be able to persuade either of us that's not the truth."

"Very well," said Clinton, his face losing any sign of warmth as he slipped into a chair across from Ron. "If that is how you wish to play this."

"I don't have time for games, Clinton," Ron told him. "I've got a meeting soon, with someone I do not care for and yet I still find myself looking forward to it in comparison to what I have to put up with now." He stared at Clinton. "Say your part."

"I'm sorry, I merely wished to discuss ways in which myself and the Ministry could work together," Clinton said, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I see no reason for such open hostilities."

"Bullshit," Ron told him. "You know exactly why I'm being hostile and it's because that meeting you seem to think this is, it's already happened. You had it, with Dennis, and you blew it off."

"I do not consider that a serious meeting, and neither do you."

"Of course it was a serious meeting," Ron argued. "You think we'd waste Dennis's time if it wasn't? I assure you he's got better things to do."

"As do I," Clinton retorted. "I have far more important things to be getting on with than meeting with some junior staffer."

"Dennis is Deputy Communications Director," Ron argued.

"Exactly," said Clinton. "Deputy."

"And second in command to the Communications Director," Ron continued. "The very person you would have seen had he not been on holiday."

"And I assure you that had I been meeting with Mr Potter I would have no complaints," Clinton told him. "But some kid…"

"The Deputy Communications Director, Dennis Creevey, is not some kid," Ron argued. "He is a high ranking member of this government and by dismissing him you are dismissing this ministry."

"No, let's not get carried away," Clinton told him.

"I'm not getting 'carried away'," Ron shot back. "I'm dead serious. I'm sure you expected you could just rough Dennis up a bit and get one of us 'real' important people to take your meeting but that's not how it works. You tried to play the game and you lost. You had your meeting."

"So what are you saying, you are unwilling to cooperate because of the complaints of some boy," Clint asked derisively. "Some attitude that is."

"We choose to stand by those who have shown they are deserving of our support," Ron told him. "You'll be feeling pretty big right now with your win in the election but I'd like to remind you that the whole country voted us in, you are but one of 199. Vote however you want but don't expect this Ministry to be taking your calls." Ron fixed him with a steady look. "Now leave, I have a meeting to attend."

For a moment it looked like Clinton would refuse, that he would continue to fight, but eventually his mouth snapped shut and he rose to his feet.

"Weasley," he muttered, jerking his head in an ever so slight nod, before he strode briskly from the office.

Ron let out a long breath. As horrible as that encounter had been it was something of a relief to get that all off his chest. He just hoped Hermione wouldn't be too mad at him for the public image problem he'd just stirred up.

"Ron," Colin appeared in the doorway. "Ash Tyler here to see you." And the dark haired man walked in.

Ron smiled.

"Ash, you have no idea how glad I am to see you."

* * *

"You really said that?"

Ron let out a sheepish grin as he finished recounting his story, now that he was a bit removed from the situation allowing himself to see the humour in it.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I messed him up," he admitted. "I think he thought it must be some sort of negotiation tactic to throw him off his game. Truthfully I've never been more ready to do whatever he wanted."

"And poor Ash had no idea," Michael chortled, absently doodling on the corner of the paper on which he'd taken down Ron's real story, the one detailing the behaviour of Warlock Stan Clinton. "Still, it looks as though you and him seem to have worked out your differences. I remember when you guys were at each other's throats."

"Well, that was all politics," Ron said carelessly. "To be honest he's not a bad guy, he agrees with us on lots of things so that always helps. But I do think we've gotten used to each other really."

"Two years working together," Michael acknowledged. "I suppose even rivals can start to get along after a while." He looked back down at his notes. "I'll get this all written up," he indicated. "Shouldn't be difficult, you've given me a lot to work with."

"When will you have it out?" Ron asked. Michael scratched his chin.

"Technically for tomorrow's morning edition but…" Michael shrugged. "I suppose you know about Donald's piece."

"About it, no idea what it actually will say," Ron told him.

"Same here," Michael admitted. "It might be best to simply wait until I've seen that and then make some modifications based on what he says. Might give it more impact. Plus, if Clinton decides to retract his statements you might want to rethink this altogether."

"Fair enough," Ron admitted, though secretly thinking there was little chance of that happening. "I'm just looking to make sure we don't lose ground to him here. Can't have him painting us as the bad guys and _certainly_ can't have him painting himself as the good guy. Not after the way he treated Dennis."

"Definitely," Michael agreed. "How's he holding up, by the way? I've met Stan Clinton and he is not the sort of guy you want to be dealing with." Ron shrugged.

"Haven't had the chance to speak with him, actually," he admitted with a disappointed sigh. "I mean, I had Ash Tyler straight after and then I had to do damage control on Clinton and now I'm here. I haven't seen him."

"You should definitely talk to him," Michael told him. "I'm on the outside looking in but even I can see he's overworked. And things like the whole situation with Clinton can really weigh on you when you don't have a chance to breath a bit."

"I will," Ron promised. "And it won't be for much longer anyway. Harry gets back tomorrow and by then all the Wizengamot meetings will be done anyway, they go back into session. I was thinking of maybe giving Dennis the day off but… I don't know, he might take that the wrong way."

"Maybe," Michael agreed.

They sat for a moment in comfortable silence.

"Eh, so, Michael… how are you doing?" Michael gave Ron a weird look.

"Fine," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just," Ron mumbled, scratching his head awkwardly. "You know, we haven't really talked much since, well…" Michael got what he was referring to.

"I'm not really sure I can comment," he said. "Not to you."

"Right, see, that's why I was worried about asking," Ron admitted. "But, like, I know I'm friends with Hermione but, we're friends too. Right?" Michael gave him a somewhat pained look.

"Yes," he said. "But not like you and Hermione. You and Hermione and Harry, you're all so… you're like a set. Like, sometimes it's like you're all the same person, like even if you talk to one of you you still get the other two just because you've all been around each other so much you know what the others would say. And to be perfectly honest I'm not sure I can deal with Hermione's opinion on our breakup right now." And somehow that all made sense.

"Right, sorry," Ron muttered. "I just wanted to check you were alright. And I know you might think that's Hermione speaking but I promise it is me. I can block the Hermione part out of me. I'm actually very good at it."

Michael chuckled. "I know," he said. "I remember from back at school." He considered Ron carefully.

"I'm good," he said eventually. "I wasn't when we first broke up but… over time things have got better. Do I miss her? Yes. Do I wish we were still together? Absolutely. But at the same time maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Whether it is circumstance or conflicting personalities relationships end for a reason, at least ours did. And if it was really meant to be then our jobs wouldn't have been a problem, at least one we couldn't overcome." He sighed.

"At least, that's what I'm telling myself," he admitted. "If Hermione were to come up to me and say that she had made a horrible mistake I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't jump at the chance to get back together with her. Even though I know that it was probably for the best us breaking up." He glanced at Ron.

"You understand, don't you?" He said. "You had the same thing with, eh, Fairchild?"

"Josephine," Ron said, nodding. That was a good way to sum up the way things had ended with them. "She went on a three month thing in Colombia, she'll be back by now, actually. I haven't gone looking for her."

"Do you want to?" Michael asked. Ron contemplated.

"No," he said eventually. "What we had was good but… as you said there was a reason it ended. Even though she's back from Colombia nothing has really changed. Perhaps it is better to just move on."

"Keep looking forward," Michael agreed. "And maybe that way we'll find our own happily ever after." He sighed. "Either that or we can make a pact to marry each other if neither of us manage before, say, forty. That would show them." Ron laughed.

"Ron," Colin had appeared at his side. "The Minister wants Senior Staff in his office."

"Right," Ron said, sobering quickly. "See you later, Michael."

"See you around," Michael agreed and Ron strode off.

"Senior Staff?" Hermione had fallen into step beside him.

"Yeah," Ron answered.

"You talked to Michael?"

"Just did," Ron told her.

"Thanks. I know it's a little bit ridiculous given how long it's been since we broke up but…" Hermione trailed off with a guilty expression.

"Don't worry about it," Ron assured her. "It was my thing, anyway. I was the one who should be clearing it up."

"And Dennis?"

"Still haven't talked to him," Ron admitted. "Got side tracked with Michael."

"Do you know how bad his meeting with Clinton was?" Hermione asked warily. "I mean, it might not be all Clinton."

"It was," Ron assured her. "Trust me, Clinton came in with an agenda. Dennis could have been the most persuasive guy on earth and not got anywhere with him." Hermione pursed her lips.

"Is he coming to the meeting?" She asked. Ron wasn't sure.

"Probably not," he said. "I told Cho to try and keep things off his plate when at all possible. If he does come it's because Cho decided it was worth telling him."

They walked into the Minister's outer office.

"Go right in," Daphne told them, pointing them through the door where they quickly joined Neville, Amos, and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood around the Minister's desk.

"So we're all here then," the Minister said, looking around at his sparse collection of senior staff. "Would have been nice to have Remus and Harry but there's nothing we can do about that."

"Is this about Peru?" Neville asked, looking expectant that it was. The Minister nodded.

"Earlier today, as I told you, we became aware of a large military group to the north of Nazca, led by General Alvarez," the Minister told them. "Since then there has been no movement. The Peruvian force has remained where they are, showing no signs of attack but similarly no signs of getting out of the way. Kingsley here expects that they're trying to slow us down, and we've got some proof of that now." He nodded to Kingsley.

"Within the last half hour we've received intelligence of a major force departing from Lima and heading South, on a collision course with our current standoff," Kingsley told them. "With the numbers reported it is possible that Casales will attack directly, rather than simply setting up a blockade, and while there's a good chance of us coming out of the battle victorious there will undoubtedly be bloodshed should that happen."

"Kingsley's suggestion is to strike now, before reinforcements catch up with Alvarez's team," the Minister said. "Given the turn of events over the last hour that would seem the best option we have. Kingsley has drawn up a battle plan, one he believes accounts for any possible traps or pitfalls, and I'd like you to hear it before I give the go ahead."

Everyone turned to face Kingsley.

"Due to the geography of the area a straight on attack would be classed as roughly equal in terms of field advantage," Kingsley told them. "Our plan is to send a portion of our forces this way while sending another, similar sized portion to attack from the hills to the North, forcing them to defend on two fronts and allowing us to make use of our long range spell casters. The hope is that Alvarez's forces will see our primary attacking unit, believe they are comfortable facing it, and therefore be caught off guard by our secondary force, thus preventing an organised retreat to the remainder of Casales's forces."

"We're planning on capturing who we can but, if in doubt, we'll be fighting to kill."

* * *

In the dim light of his office Dennis sat in silence, absently turning the pages of the file in front of him, not really reading any of it. His meetings were over, thank god, but he knew well enough that that wasn't the end of his torture. Whatever story had been given to the papers, whatever Clinton had thought to say of him, would soon be out there for the world to see, and even though Colin had stopped by to assure him that Ron was handling it Dennis couldn't help but feel like his time with the Ministry was limited. He'd been entrusted with Harry's job for two weeks, just two weeks, and he had failed.

There was a gentle knock on the door and he looked up.

"Hey," Cho said, standing there with a cup of coffee in her hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Like death can't come quickly enough," Dennis replied dully. Cho walked over to him, placing the coffee down on the desk, and sat in the seat opposite.

"For you," she said, nodding towards the coffee. "You've earned it."

"Have I?" Dennis wondered.

"Yes," Cho told him. "And you should drink it, if only to give you the energy to get out of this office and go home. The day is done, your schedule is clear. Just go home, have a bath, just forget everything and allow yourself to relax."

"Have a bath?" Dennis repeated, the whole idea a foreign concept to him. "I'm not sure what gave you the idea that I would live in a place fancy enough to have a bath."

"Well you should get one," Cho told him seriously. "I know your salary. You can definitely afford it."

"But for how much longer?" Dennis asked glumly. "It'd be awful to buy a new place only to have to move again after they kick me out of here."

"No one is going to do that, Dennis," Cho assured him.

"How can you say that?" Dennis asked. "I failed. And in this of all jobs. There must dozens of people waiting for a job like this to come available, they can get better than me."

"You're not going to be fired," Cho told him. "Harry will never fire you. He hired you, and nothing you've done over the last two weeks is going to change his mind about the fact that you're the right man for the job."

"Ron might," Dennis told her. "Harry listens to him and I know Ron is angry. He's already been shutting me out."

"He's not shutting you out."

"Oh yeah," Dennis challenged. "Where is he now?" Cho didn't respond. "Senior Staff, and for these two weeks that certainly includes me, even if only as Harry's stand in. But I've been left out, deliberately excluded."

"We just didn't want you to have too much on your plate," Cho told him softly. "This is such a busy time of year, you didn't need the distraction."

But Dennis didn't believe her. He couldn't believe her. He'd worked so hard, trying his best to live up to Harry's trust in him over these past two weeks and he'd thought he would make it, all the way down until today. It was, Dennis realised with incredulity, the worst day of his life.

"How does Harry do this?" He muttered, burying his head in his hands. "How does he do this every single day? Two weeks and I'm dead but Harry just keeps coming back, never even seeming bothered by all the work he has to put in on even the quiet days. How does he do that, Cho?"

Cho gave him a sad smile.

"I don't know," she admitted. "And I know exactly what you mean and I admire Harry greatly for it. I've been here for two years now, but I couldn't do even half of what Harry does on a regular day. And I'd have folded under the pressure you've been under within the first week. It's extraordinary." She sighed softly.

"You know what, scratch that, I know exactly what it is," she said, smiling. "Ginny. It's always been Ginny. Even back at the beginning, back when they were still keeping it quiet, Harry lived for the time he got to spend with her. And that's how he gets through this, every day."

"It sounds so easy when you say it like that," Dennis muttered sadly. "I mean, it should be fine for me, shouldn't it. I have my Ginny, Lizzie. I mean, I think she's my Ginny. But then maybe not. Not on the evidence of today, anyway."

Cho reached forward gently, taking a hold of his hand. "You can't think like that," she told him firmly. "Just because Ginny is what keeps Harry going doesn't mean it's the same for you. We're all different, all of us, and so the things that drive us are different too. And whatever worry you have just remember, you made it two weeks. You managed that, and I don't think you would have if you didn't have that something that drives you, even if you don't quite know what it is yet."

Dennis let out a soft smile.

"Thank you, Cho," he said, beyond grateful for her kind words. "You always seem to know what to say."

"Nonsense," Cho said with a smile. "Just now and then I get lucky." Dennis grinned. Then his expression fell again.

"You know, sometimes I just wish Harry was here," he admitted, his voice tired. "Not to do the work but just to talk to, to ask for advice. You have no idea how many times I've picked up the phone, preparing to call him. He gave me his number before he left… so many times I've been so close to dialling…"

The phone rang.

Dennis and Cho shared startled looks.

"Do you think…?" Cho gasped.

"Could be," Dennis suggested. "That would be so freaky."

"Answer the phone." Dennis picked up.

"Hello?"

"Dennis?" The voice on the other end of the line was most certainly not Harry.

"Teo?" Dennis replied. Across from him Cho's eyebrows raised in alarm.

"Thank the lord I found you," Teo said, his voiced rushed, his English fragmenting slightly as he spoke. "I though you might have left. I've got timezones all mixed up and I didn't have your usual hours."

"Teo, what's wrong?" Dennis asked urgently.

"I have important information," Teo said desperately. "Vital information for the British Ministry with regards to the situation in Peru. I must speak with you immediately."

"Tell me," Dennis instructed. "Tell me." And Teo did. And as he did so Dennis's expression turned pale.

"You've got all that?" Teo asked breathlessly, having not paused for a second in the story. "Please tell me you got all that."

"I did, I got it," Dennis told him. "Look, Teo, I've got to go. I'll pass on the message, I promise. Bye." And he hung up the phone. "We need to speak to the Minister now!" He declared, jumping to his feet with newfound energy and blowing past Cho as she hurried to keep up.

"I'll phone ahead!" She called after him as he hurried through the hallways, taking no time to acknowledge he'd heard her. He rushed through the hallways, mostly empty, but drawing incredulous looks from those that remained, before he reached the Minister's outer office.

"Blaise," he said, panting from the exertion. "I need to see the Minister."

"He's in a meeting," Blaise said, eyeing him up warily. "You can go in after he's finished."

"But this is important," Dennis pressed. "I have vital information. I must speak to the Minister."

"I've just got a call from Cho," Daphne announced, looking to Blaise. "She says they just got a call from Teo Ochoa." Blaise frowned.

"Communications Director for the Bolivian Ministry," Dennis told him. "Blaise, this is about Peru. You've got to let me in."

* * *

Inside the Minister's office things were much quieter.

"So, this is it then," Hermione uttered. "The true fighting starts here."

"So it would appear," said Amos.

"And there's no other way for us to bypass this force?" Neville asked. "No way we could go round them?"

"Not without risking an attack on our flank," Kingsley told him. "If we somehow make it round Alvarez's forces then we'll be putting our men between two blocks of Casales's troops. That would be a strategic death trap."

The Minister sighed. "I have had much time to think this over and I am at a loss as to any other course," he admitted. "Unless any of you have any other suggestions then I am prepared to give the go ahead. Hermione?"

Hermione looked helpless.

"Ron?"

Ron's features were hardened. He was prepared for the worst.

"Neville?"

Neville shook his head.

"Well then," the Minister said. "Kingsley-" but that was as far as he got as there was a soft knock on the door, which swung open. "Blaise?"

"I apologise, Minister," Blaise said smoothly. "But I have Dennis out here with me. He says he has important information. Information pertaining to the situation in Peru."

The Minister looked around, bewildered. "He does?" He said, glancing to Amos and Kingsley, both of whom looked just as surprised as he was. "Then send him in." Blaise nodded, stepping aside as Dennis stepped into the office, all eyes in the room on him. "Dennis. Please explain." Dennis took a breath.

"You can't attack those forces in Nazca," Dennis told him firmly. The Minister blinked.

"Why not?" He asked, bewildered.

"Sir, I just received a call from Teo Ochoa, the Communications Director for the Bolivian Ministry," Dennis told him.

"I remember him," the Minister commented. "He was instrumental in forming our relationship with Roberto Caro, wasn't he?"

"Yes sir," Dennis said. "And he called with a message from Roberto Caro, sir. Sir, General Alvarez is not working with the Casales regime." More than one person gasped.

"He's not?" The Minister asked. Dennis shook his head.

"Roberto Caro says that General Alvarez was great friends with his brother, with Manuel Caro," Dennis told them. "He says he believes that Alvarez has gathered up those elements of the Peruvian military he can trust and is gathering resources for an attempted takeover of the government. Those Casales soldiers marching south aren't coming for our soldiers. They're coming for his."

* * *

It was some time later that Dennis was able to return to his office, exhausted beyond words but happy that, at last, he seemed to have done something right. The chaotic consequences of his announcement had drawn him in to its depths and he was glad to finally step away, now that he knew that everything was taken care of.

He collapsed down behind his desk, eyes falling closed automatically as he silently wished to just fall off to sleep. Perhaps it would be better, more comfortable, if he were to return home to his nice warm bed, but Dennis didn't have the energy for that, and the coffee Cho had brought for him had long since gone cold.

So instead he allowed his mind to drift away as he relaxed into the silence of the empty ministry.

"Dennis?" Dennis opened his eyes, blinking rapidly at the familiar voice, and he looked up.

"Harry," he gasped, straightening up in surprise and gaping to where, sure enough, Harry Potter was standing in the doorway to his office, grinning down at him. "You're back."

He looked good, even from the limited light shining from the bullpen. His skin was obviously tanned, healthy looking, and his stature was relaxed, content. He looked happy.

"Ginny and I got back not too long ago," Harry told him. "International port key into the Ministry. Ginny wanted to go say hello to her mum, and whoever else might be hanging around the Burrow, so I decided to see if there was anyone up here burning the midnight oil."

"More than a few," Dennis commented. "You wouldn't believe what has happened in the last few hours." Harry smiled.

"Ron gave me an idea," he admitted. "So, General Alvarez was a good guy after all."

"He was out on a diplomatic mission to Venezuela when the coup occurred," Dennis told him, summing up all he'd learned since Teo Ochoa's call. "When he returned he found himself denied access to the capital so he gathered up all the weapons and allies he could and started to organise his own resistance."

"And how do we fit into the situation?" Harry asked, walking in and taking the seat across from him.

"Well, we were minutes away from attacking, weren't we," Dennis recalled. "But after Teo called and I told the Minister we sent out a messenger instead. It'll take time, of course, to integrate Alvarez's forces with ours, but hopefully with some native Peruvian might on our side we can help place a legitimate government the people might actually be willing to support."

"All and all a good day then," Harry said with a smile.

"Well," Dennis admitted. "Until then it was pretty awful." Until then it had been the worst.

"Stan Clinton," Harry said, a knowing look on his face. Dennis was shocked. "Ron mentioned him. A piece of work if ever there was one. He's going to be a thorn in our side for a long time to come."

"I could have done better," Dennis told him.

"From the sounds of it you did alright," Harry disagreed. "People like Stan… there is no working with. Sometimes you need to just dust yourself off and say there's nothing to be done and just move on. You did good."

"Did Ron say that as well?" Dennis said doubtfully.

"Yes," Harry told him. Dennis blinked in surprise. "Ron was impressed."

"But," Dennis stammered. "I was sure…"

Harry smiled. "There is no one, no one at all, who understands this job like I do," Harry told him. "But Ron is a very close second. If you think for even a moment that anything that Ron has said or done in the past two weeks has been done for any other reason other than to help you then you've lost your mind."

"But he never said…" Dennis murmured. "I was sure he was annoyed with the whole Clinton thing."

"He was… at Clinton," Harry told him. "And probably most annoyed that he hadn't seen it coming and saved you the hassle of having to deal with him. He was furious, you know, absolutely furious at Clinton for treating you like that." Harry stretched.

"Ron has my back," he told Dennis, rising to his feet. "He always has and always will. And so long as you're my deputy he has your back too." Harry grinned. "Look alive, Dennis. It's a brand new beginning, a brand new day, and things are only just getting started."

And on that note he left the room, leaving Dennis to wonder whether it might not be best to just quit now, but undoubtedly glad to have Harry back.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

Lizzie stood in the doorway, surprising Dennis by even still being there. Colin and Cho had both left a while ago, Dennis sure that there couldn't be more than a handful of people left in the Ministry, and Lizzie's job had finished hours ago.

"Hey," he said softly. She looked hesitant.

"Can I come in?" She asked nervously, hovering in the doorway. Dennis waved her inside, encouraging her to approach the desk which she did, reluctantly though she did it.

"Are you okay?" He asked. "What's the matter?" Lizzie sighed.

"I wanted to apologise," she said in a small voice. "I haven't been a particularly good girlfriend today."

"Well, you're not really supposed to be when we're working," he countered, getting a small smile in a return.

"I haven't been a very good assistant today either," she told him. "I've been enjoying my time so much, talking and chatting with Cho and Demelza and all that, that I forgot just how important all this work actually is. And I left you, on the busiest day of your career, to spend time girl-talking." Dennis felt his eyes drop.

"I must admit that was difficult," he said in a low voice. "I was kind of needing you here today."

"And you told me, and I should have listened," Lizzie said. "And I guess I just got carried away but… I won't do it anymore. I'll be a better assistant. I'll listen and I'll learn from Cho and when you need me I will be there. I promise you."

"Thank you," Dennis said softly. "That means a lot to me." Lizzie looked pained by his words.

"I've arranged for you to take tomorrow off," she told him. "I think you could use the rest after the last two weeks, now that Harry's back. I think you need time to recover." Dennis agreed. Just the idea of not having to come in tomorrow seemed like a blessed relief.

"I'm also taking the day off tomorrow myself," Lizzie continued, her eyes nervous. "I was thinking that, if you wanted to, we could spend the day together. Just… doing nothing. Relaxing. Maybe we could spend some time together, and I can start to make up for the way I've been behaving."

Dennis looked at Lizzie, truly looked at her in the dim light of his office, finding himself at once captivated by her features, by her blonde hair, by her smooth, heart-shaped face. By the intense vulnerability in her eyes that he yearned to clear. And he realised, realised how foolish he had been. She was his Ginny, his reason for being, and it was only being without her that allowed him to doubt that.

He smiled.

"I'd like that," he murmured, his soft eyes meeting hers. "I'd like that very much."

* * *

 **A/N:** Happy New Year! I hope you're enjoying the story and I'll see you next time.


	16. Penalty

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

Harry shuffled through the papers on his desk distractedly. "Cho!"

"Morning Harry," Cho spoke as she appeared in the doorway, clipboard in hand. "What do you need?"

"I had a report on my desk last night," Harry told her, still shuffling the papers. "I can't find it."

"Amos came by and took it before you got in," Cho informed him. Harry looked up.

"He did?" He asked. "Did he say anything?"

"He said he'll handle it," Cho told him. "Apparently he has new information that might be important."

"Alright," Harry accepted, dropping his papers. Now he had to think of what to do, given that his original plan was no longer relevant. "I'm meeting with Ash Tyler today, aren't I?"

"Yes," Cho agreed, checking her notes. "At half twelve. Warlock Tyler's office suggested you could speak over lunch."

"Alright, we'll do that," Harry agreed. "That'll be all." Cho hesitated in the doorway. "What?"

"I just wanted to say… well, to thank, um…" Cho stumbled. "I would just like to say how honoured…"

"Cho…" Harry said with a sigh.

"Thank you for inviting me round for dinner," Cho told him before he could say more. "It really means a lot, you know, even though you're my boss and I work for you that you'll still invite me…"

"Don't mention it," Harry mumbled, his cheeks burning slightly in embarrassment. "You're my friend, we want to have you round."

"Still, I'm grateful," Cho said earnestly. "And I'll have to check with my family but I should be able to RSVP."

"Great, I'll talk to you then." Cho recognised this as a dismissal. She smiled at him before ducking out of the office, only just dodging Ron as he sauntered his way inside.

"What's all this about?" He asked. In his hand was a decorative blue envelope, noticeably opened. "You're hosting a dinner?"

"Sit down," Harry offered, gesturing to a seat. Ron closed the door behind him and took the offered chair.

"Seriously, you're hosting dinner?" Ron repeated. "On Christmas Eve? Really?" Harry shrugged.

"Yeah," he said. He wasn't being secretive about it. "Ginny and I thought it'd be a good idea to have a few friends round - you, Hermione, Neville, Cho, etcetera. We thought it'd be nice."

"Mate, this is the sort of thing my parents do," Ron told him, favouring him with a weird look. "Like the thing old married couples do." He looked at him incredulously. Harry smiled.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed but Ginny and I are a married couple," Harry pointed out. "We're maybe not old but… we're not _that_ far away from your parents."

"But you're young," Ron countered. "You didn't suddenly age twenty years when you got married. Honestly, I didn't think you marrying Ginny was really going to change much. Seriously, mate, what brought all this on." Harry shrugged.

"We just wanted to do something," Harry told him. "You know how your parents have all their traditions and the like, well, now that we are married we thought it might be a good idea to start some of our own. It's not like we've never had people over before."

"For drinks and to watch a quidditch match," Ron argued but he wasn't really into it. "This is just weird." He frowned. "How many people have you invited?"

"A few," Harry answered. "You, Hermione, Cho, Neville, Colin. I mean, I haven't really invited Colin but anyone can bring a date so I assume he's probably going to come with Cho anyway. I've invited Dean and Seamus, and Remus, and he'll bring Tonks and Teddy, too. Ginny's inviting Luna, and a couple of friends from work, though they might not make it. Gwen is quite heavily pregnant so she can only travel by muggle means at the moment."

"Right," Ron said, adding the numbers in his head. "So that's, what, ten to fifteen people you're inviting, roughly. Plus you and Ginny. You realise you live in a flat, right. Do you even have space for that many people?"

"With magic I do," Harry pointed out. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Oh yeah," he said. "And when was the last time you cast a space expansion charm?" Harry flushed.

"I've been going through my old textbooks," he admitted with a discrete cough. "I was pretty good with charms so hopefully… Anyway, if I can't manage I'm sure Hermione can. I'm not worried."

"Of course," Ron muttered, leaning back in his chair. His eyes narrowed.

"You're not hiding anything from me, are you?" He asked suspiciously. "You don't have any new Potters coming up that I don't know about." Harry went scarlet.

"No," he said quickly. "No, definitely… no. Not that I'm aware of, at any rate."

"I was just saying because it does sound as though you're planning ahead for something. I know you've always liked the idea of having kids…"

"No," Harry said. "No, we're not expecting children. Not now. I mean, I'm not saying we're never going to have children or anything, it's just… well, we've talked about it, in theory, but we haven't really…"

"I get it," Ron told him, smirking slightly. "Don't worry about it. I was only asking, just in case. Good thing too, really. I think Ginny announcing she's pregnant might just off mum in a final blaze of joy. She still hasn't settled down from the wedding."

"It's been months," Harry pointed out.

"And she will still be buzzed for several more to come," countered Ron. They fell into a comfortable silence.

Ron shifted slightly. He glanced over to Harry, the dark haired man gazing distractedly at his bookcase, and idly played with his cuffs.

"Have you heard the news?" He asked quietly. Harry's eyes flickered over.

"What news?" He responded. Ron shifted again.

"The Ecclestone news," he said and he straightened up. "Duncan Ecclestone. I'm sure you've heard of him."

"He was a Warlock of the Wizengamot for years," Harry said, recognising the name easily. "He represented one of the constituencies neighbouring David Woods'… although now I suppose I should say neighbouring Mike Hardy's."

"That's him," Ron agreed.

"What about him?" Harry asked. "I haven't heard anything of him in years. He left the Wizengamot before we even started working here."

"Well, now he's making a bit of a comeback," Ron told him. "It isn't official but I have my sources and they say he's preparing for a ministerial run."

"What?" Harry gasped. "This early? There's still eighteen months till the election."

"Well, that's what I was saying, it isn't official," Ron told him. "He hasn't announced his candidacy yet but I've heard word… He's talking to people, big people in local politics, and from what I've heard all the signs point to him making a run."

There was a brief silence.

"Well," Harry said with a sigh. "At least we're starting to get an idea of what we're up against. Duncan Ecclestone. How dangerous do you think he is?"

"Very," was Ron's response. "He's a veteran. Represented Canterbury for twenty-four years. Even if he's been out of the game he won't have lost much of his edge. He's always been one of the smartest blokes in any room, it'll be hard for anyone to match him on policy."

"And how bad do you think this'll be for the Minister?" Harry asked. "He may not have twenty-four years in the Wizengamot but surely he's got the experience to match up, and then some. And he's not stupid."

"I think the Minister's got a good chance," Ron said. "He won last time, didn't he. Maybe not against Ecclestone but he won. And I wouldn't be talking about this if I didn't think the Minister was the right man for the job. It's just…" Ron hesitated.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I'm not completely sure if the Minister is going to run again," Ron admitted. Harry blinked.

"Has he said…?"

"He hasn't said anything," Ron said quickly. "I haven't heard anything to suggest he's even started thinking about this yet. It's just… he hasn't said anything. And he's not acting like a man that is preparing for an election."

"It's still early," Harry pointed out. "With this Ecclestone thing… if he hasn't heard then why would he be thinking about it?"

"You're right," Ron agreed with a sigh. "I'm just thinking too much into it. It's the fallout from the Wizengamot elections. I've got all these tactical thoughts in my head, thinking of poll numbers and demographics and such, I guess I haven't quite been able to settle down and, you know, govern again." Harry nodded in understanding.

"We can worry about this later," he said. "But for what it's worth whether the Minister runs again or not we'll work it out either way. Just don't sweat it until there's a reason to."

"You're right," said Ron, taking a breath. "You're right."

* * *

The door to the situation room opened and the Minister strode out briskly, Amos by his side. As he passed through the hallways staffers stood aside to let them past, watching them go, though he paid them no mind as he spoke to Amos.

"So what they're saying is that there's been no change," he reported as a statement of fact. "We've solidified our position and they seem to be holding theirs."

"That is the gist of it," Amos confirmed.

"Can't say I'm too happy about that," the Minister told him. "When at war in a far off land doing nothing is akin to giving up ground. For every day we spend there we risk more British lives and with every day with Casales in charge it becomes more the norm what has happened. The locals will come to just accept Casales as their leader, barring any option to the contrary, and it just becomes more difficult for us to overthrow him and allow Peru the freedom of their own elections."

"Yes," Amos said. "I agree with you." The Minister came to a stop.

"You don't seem to have much to say on the matter." Amos gave him a weird look.

"I was in the meeting," he pointed out, his tone slightly exasperated. "I've already heard all of this, it's not like it's new information. And even if I hadn't worked it out myself - which, by the way, would be incredibly insulting if you thought I wouldn't - I heard Kingsley tell you all of this literally word for word. I agree with you, no progress is a step backwards, but that's why we have to listen to the advice of Kingsley in the situation room and Moody out in the field."

"And in the meantime?" The Minister asked.

"Well, don't let on but I think you have a country to run," Amos said in mock secrecy. "Might want to, you know, pretend you're doing something every once in a while." The Minister smiled.

"Alright," he said, beginning his journey back to his office once more. "I suppose I can find something to do." He briefly fell silent.

"I've been hearing some interesting things about Duncan Ecclestone," the Minister said, out of the blue. "Just rumours, nothing concrete."

"I've heard them too," Amos told him. "And come to think of it it's not a huge surprise. Duncan always did have his eye set on the Minister's office. It's some surprise he never ran before now."

"So you think this is serious?" The Minister asked. "This is a real challenge?"

"Most definitely," Amos told him. "Ecclestone's a force, or at least he was before he stepped down from his Wizengamot seat. I had thought we'd seen the last of him but apparently not."

"Apparently," the Minister agreed. "But why now? What is it that is driving Ecclestone to make a run after being out of the game for so long?"

"Well," said Amos, choosing his words carefully. "I can't say anything for certain but when he stepped down he cited family reasons. His wife passed away last year. It could be a coincidence but perhaps she was what was stopping him from making a run all these years."

"Perhaps," the Minister muttered thoughtfully. "It makes sense, I suppose. Had Molly dug her heels in I would never have run either." He walked into his office.

"Remus," he greeted cheerfully, seeing the man standing beside his desk. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you, sir. Amos." He nodded politely.

"We were just discussing the current situation in Peru," the Minister said as he rounded his desk, Amos approaching to stand next to Remus.

"Problems?" Remus asked.

"Only a frustrating lack of progress," the Minister assured him. "But enough about that, now you're here I actually had something to ask you about. I hear Harry and Ginny are organising a little gathering on Christmas Eve."

"Yes, sir," Remus responded with a smile. "I found my invitation on my desk this morning, and I can assure you I will be attending."

"Well, lucky for you," the Minister said with an air of false indignation. "I wasn't even invited." He shook his head ruefully. "You know I thought being Minister meant people had to invite me to things. I guess they didn't want an old duffer like me around, although how you managed to snag an invite is hard to determine."

"Well, in all honesty, sir, I think the invitation was more for Teddy than for me," Remus said conspiratorially. The Minister chuckled.

"Well, what are you are here for?" He asked, getting down to business. "I trust this isn't a personal visit."

"I'm afraid not sir," Remus said with a small smile. "I unfortunately bring news of a man in the States by the name of James Francis."

"Doesn't ring any bells," said the Minister.

"No, it wouldn't," Remus told him. "But you'll likely hear a lot more about him over the coming days. He's thirty-seven, living in Phoenix, Arizona, and is currently awaiting the death sentence."

"The death sentence," the Minister repeated, his expression concerned.

"What did he do?" Asked Amos.

"To be honest, I don't want to get into it," Remus said, a slightly sickly look on his face. "Needless to say it involved some of the worst crimes a human can commit, and had we the death penalty here we would almost certainly be sentencing him to it in our own courts if given the chance."

"But thankfully we do not," the Minister said, his voice firm. "The death penalty is a punishment unbefitting the reasonable judge. We are not just in commanding the death of another. It is a punishment of tyrants and dictatorships."

"Well, regardless of how we may feel about it, it is legal in the US," Remus told him. "Francis is to be executed tomorrow." The room fell silent.

Amos frowned. "Why are you telling us this?" He asked. "How does this matter affect us? Surely this is a US problem."

"Well, that's the thing," Remus said. "James Francis wasn't born in the US. He was born in Kent." The Minister groaned.

"He's a British citizen?" Remus nodded.

"He has established residency in the US, he's been there a number of years now," said Remus. "But he grew up here and has a number of family members who do not want him dead."

"And they want us to step in and get him off the hook," Amos concluded.

"Essentially," Remus stated. "They've begun campaigning for him to be transferred back here and tried by our courts, which would certainly sentence him to life in Azkaban, and I think the campaign has the potential to really pick up steam and become a national issue. Those against the death penalty will want him back, if for no other reason than to stand up for their belief that execution is wrong. Meanwhile the Americans will not want to hand him over, and with good reason. He committed his crimes in the States, he lives there, and they don't want to see him let off the hook, not even slightly. And at the end of the day they have no reason to send him back to us."

There was a long silence in the office. The Minister sighed.

"I guess this was what you were talking about when you suggested I start running the country," he said to Amos, who looked back stoically. He leaned over the desk, resting his hands on the reassuring solid wood. "Alright, keep me posted on this Remus. Hopefully this will blow over and stay out of our hands but if things start to get serious we need to be ready."

"With all due respect, sir," said Remus. "For James Francis and his family things are already serious."

* * *

It did not blow over. Over the course of the next week the protests began to grow, catching the national attention, and as Hermione began to find herself asked questions on the subject in her briefings it became clear that the Ministry needed to step in.

The senior staff were standing together in the Minister's office, gathered in the aftermath of Hermione's latest press conference, and it quickly became clear the complexity of the issue.

"James Francis's crimes are numerous," Remus was explaining for the group. "There is no doubt that the sentence was fair based on the laws of the US State of Arizona, where he was tried."

"The problem is that we have little authority to have Francis brought over here but the campaign is gathering momentum," the Minister added grimly, looking out over them. "Any thoughts on how we should proceed would be most welcome."

There was silence from the group.

"Anything?" The Minister asked, looking from face to face for an answer. "Anything you have to say."

"Perhaps it's a bit early to be making a decision on this," Remus suggested. "We haven't even spoken to anyone. Who knows how amenable the Americans might be. We really should talk to them before we tie ourselves to any particular course of action."

"I can find someone in the American Ministry to speak with," Harry told them. "It shouldn't be too difficult to arrange a meeting, although naturally transport could delay it."

"Understandable, and potentially very useful," the Minister said in relief. "Take that meeting Harry. If the Americans are willing to hand him over then that makes things a lot easier."

"What are the chances that's actually going to happen though?" Ron wondered. "I mean, I haven't read his file but I've seen the news coverage. If he's getting the death penalty then he's clearly done something pretty awful. What sort of crimes are we talking about?"

"Murder," Amos noted simply. "On several counts. The details are rather… disturbing. And that's not getting into the rest of his crimes."

"Do we really think the US are willing to let him go?" Ron asked. "Those crimes were committed against their people, at least that's what I'm assuming. I don't think they'll choose to hand him over."

"And without any legal recourse they have even less reason to," added Hermione. "If James Francis is a US citizen he is theirs to do with as they please."

"Either way, it may be a long shot, but you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take," the Minister said firmly. "Harry, take the meeting, see what you can work, and report back."

"Yes sir," said Harry. The Minister turned to the others.

"Has anyone got any connections to the protestors?" He wondered. "Someone we can talk to on the other side." Neville hesitated.

"Alea has got herself involved in this," he said with an uncomfortable wince. "Naturally she's firmly against the death penalty, she'd never let this pass without having her say on the matter."

"You'll talk to her?" Amos asked. Neville gave a pained nod.

"Alright, then," said the Minister. "Until we've done that there's no use standing around talking it over. Take the meetings and report back."

They were dismissed.

"Tough luck, mate," Ron told Neville, grimacing along with him as they strode from the Minister's office. "I don't envy you."

"This isn't the first time," Neville said with a sigh. "Alea has strong beliefs, and we aren't always able to keep our personal and professional lives separate. Truthfully I've been expecting this from the moment she got involved."

"Good luck," Ron told him, clapping him on the shoulder. Neville ducked into his office.

Ron sped up, hurrying forward to Harry. "So, you're going to talk to the Americans?"

"I have some contacts I can get in touch with," Harry told him as they strode back towards the communications centre. "But it won't be easy. Even if the American Ministry are willing to play ball getting MACUSA to agree as well will be a complete and utter nightmare. Seeing the divisions in their congress makes me glad I only have to deal with the Wizengamot."

Upon reaching the communications centre Colin approached them, handing over a message to Ron who read it quickly.

"He's here?" Ron asked, looking up.

"In your office," said Colin. Ron looked confused.

"Alright," he said, handing the slip back to Colin. Harry looked at him curiously.

"What's that about?" He asked. "You've got a meeting?"

"Yes," Ron said, giving him a look. "With the one and only owner of the Chudley Cannons, Barnabus Lee."

"Barnabus Lee," Harry repeated. "What's he doing here? How'd he even get a meeting with you?"

Ron shrugged. "Don't know," he said. "I'll tell you when I find out." And he walked over to his office.

"Wait," said Harry, stopping Ron at the door. "Hold up a sec." He moved closer, glancing around carefully. His voice dropped. "This whole thing with Francis, what's your take on it? You said you didn't think they'd send him over."

Ron ran a hand through his hair.

"Would you?" He asked seriously. "Look, I'm not a big fan of the death penalty, but you heard what he's done. And you know Amos only scratched the surface."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that we should probably just let the Americans do what they want," Ron told him. "In this case, at least. As I said, if he had committed his crimes here and was already tried here I wouldn't be saying we should kill him, but if he's half a world away I sure as hell don't want him coming back. I don't want a man like that anywhere near my family or my friends. After that…" Ron shrugged. "I honestly don't care."

Harry grimaced. "So that's it?" He asked. "That's your final word?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess," he said. Harry sighed.

"Right," he muttered.

"I'm not trying to stop you, or somehow argue we should be killing people," Ron told him hastily. "But perhaps we shouldn't be stepping in to save this guy. And I reckon that's what you're going to be hearing from your guys in the US. Just, don't get your hopes up, is what I'm saying."

Harry sighed. "Alright," he said. "I'll let you know when it's done. You have fun with…" Harry gestured towards the door.

"Hopefully," Ron agreed.

"Must be a dream come true," Harry murmured.

"Yeah." Ron hesitated. "I'll talk with you after," he told him and he stepped into his office and closed the door behind him.

"Ah, Mr Weasley," the portly man sitting by Ron's desk rose to his feet enthusiastically, holding out a hand to shake as he beamed up at him. "Thanks for meeting with me."

"The pleasure's mine, Mr Lee," Ron told him, shaking his hand and gesturing for him to sit, rounding the desk to take a seat across from him. "I'm a big Cannons fan so when I heard you were on my agenda I couldn't wait."

"Yes, I heard," Barnabus said with a smile. "We don't get much in the way of good publicity, given our general track record, but when the Minister's son, the Political Strategy Director of the Ministry, announces he's a diehard Cannons fan it is always something to be cheerful about."

"I am a bit confused though why you'd want to meet me," Ron told him. "Most of the thoughts that passed through my head were of business and those would be highly unethical for you to come straight to me with. I am hoping that's not the case."

"No, no, it's not. Don't you worry," Barnabus assured him. "The Cannons hierarchy keeps all its business with the Ministry at the appropriate level. We know our way around the Department for Magical Games and Sports."

"Good, because if word got out you were trying to do business with the top levels of the Ministry, bypassing due process, we would both be in some very serious trouble," Ron reminded him. He gestured for him to go on. "Why did you want to meet me?"

"Well," Barnabus began, a small sheen of sweat now visible on his brow. "Actually, I came here with a bit of a job offer for you." Ron blinked.

"A job offer," Ron repeated. "For me?" His brain was working at a sluggish pace.

"Yes," said Barnabus with a little chuckle. "We would love if you would be willing to come on board as a Cannons Ambassador," he announced. "Your level of dedication as a fan coupled with your visibility to the British public and indeed to overseas investors would be perfect to help bring the club forward and help us make the Chudley Cannons a true success in the league and indeed worldwide."

"Wow," said Ron, blown away. "Mr Lee…"

"Barnabus," Barnabus said promptly.

"Barnabus," Ron corrected. "Barnabus… I'm honoured you thought of me, but I already have a job." He gestured around his office. "And I can't become a club ambassador while still working here."

"Well, obviously, yes," Barnabus agreed. "But you won't be working here that much longer." Ron tilted his head.

"What do you mean?" He asked sharply.

"Well," said Barnabus, clearly realising he'd stepped on a nerve. "I mean, Minister Weasley's tenure is coming to a close. I mean, obviously you could work for the next administration but I always thought your work here was based upon who the Minister was. Would you have been here but for the fact your father was running for Minister and you were helping lead his campaign?"

"My work here is because I care about making the country a better place," Ron said swiftly. "And for that matter Minister Weasley has not indicated whether he'll run again or not."

"I wasn't suggesting anything," Barnabus backtracked quickly. "I don't mean… look," he said, letting out a frustrated breath. "I never meant to imply you worked this job out of anything other than duty for this country. Or indeed that you gained this job for any reason other than your ability to do it. What I am saying is that once Minister Weasley is out of office it is more likely than not that someone else will take up your position. Even if they keep you on I am just here to give you the option."

"The Minister hasn't…" Ron began.

"I know what the Minister has or has not said," Barnabus said curtly. "I am quite aware of our current political climate. Duncan Ecclestone is planning on running and in nearly any race he would be the front runner. And what with the way the Minister got into the job in the first place, with Amos Diggory the driving force behind him, it does not take a genius to predict that he might not be willing to take on a second term."

Ron sat in silence, stunned by what he'd heard. Barnabus looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come in here and get all political about this," he said mournfully. "I merely came here to get my foot in the door before anyone else did. This job offer is real, we want you to be part of the organisation. And I may be wrong, Minister Weasley may run again and he may well win, but my loyalties are to my Cannons and I'd be betraying them by not trying to recruit the best people when I see the opportunity." He stood up.

"Thank you for meeting with me," he said, holding out a hand. Shaking himself Ron pulled himself to his feet and grasped it.

"Not at all," he said gruffly. "Thanks for the offer." Barnabus nodded.

"You don't need to get back to us immediately," he told him. "This is an open offer. Whenever you're ready, just give us a call. Your secretary has our number."

Ron nodded as Barnabus turned and left his office.

* * *

Harry sat behind his desk, waiting patiently for the representative from the US to appear, his mind running wild with everyone Ron had just told him from his meeting with Barnabus Lee. He took a deep breath, trying to silence his doubts, at least until after the meeting took place. He needed to be focused.

There was a knock on his door.

"Noah Miller is here to see you," Cho announced, stepping inside and opening the door for the sharply dressed American wizard to walk in behind her.

"Mr Miller, pleased to meet you," said Harry, standing up and shaking his hand.

"Pleasure's all mine," replied Miller, his accent obvious. "You're Mr Potter, right. I've heard great things about you."

"Thank you," said Harry. He glanced over at Cho. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"Oh, some water would be dandy," said Miller, turning to glance over at Cho as well. Cho nodded.

"Coffee for me, please, Cho," Harry told her. Cho nodded, exiting the room. Miller's eyes followed her.

"So, Mr Miller, I believe you are from foreign affairs?" Harry asked, lowering himself into his seat as Miller sat down across from him. "I spoke to Secretary Samuel Johnson's staff, did he send you?"

"Yes sir," said Miller. "I've got to say he spoke quite highly of you. And he's a tough SOB, real hard to impress."

"I'm flattered," said Harry and at that moment Cho reappeared. "Thank you," he said as Cho placed his mug and a glass of water on his desk.

"Yes, thank you, doll," said Miller, looking up at her as she straightened up and giving her a winning smile. She nodded swiftly and strode from the room.

"So, where are you from?" Harry asked, breaking Miller's attention away from Cho's retreating form. "I'm afraid I'm not great with accents, or indeed names. Am I right in guessing you're from the North-East?"

"Eh, not quite," Miller chuckled. "Actually I'm from Ohio. Go Buckeyes! We're sorta North-East in geography but when you say the North-East in America that has a very specific meaning."

"Right, I think I have an idea where that is," said Harry. "Personally I've never really been to the States. I was in Hawaii not that long ago for my honeymoon, actually, but I've never been to the mainland."

"Oh, Hawaii's great, no doubt," Miller agreed. "But we've got so much more to offer than just Hawaii, loads of different climates all across the States. Even a young man like myself, born and raised in Akron, Ohio, can't hope to see it all in my lifetime, there's so much. It's truly wonderful."

"I'll have to come visit sometime," Harry said. "I've heard the Florida Keys are great."

"And I really must take some time to explore London at some point," Miller agreed. "You can't go wrong with Big Ben, the London Eye, Diagon Alley."

"No, you can't," Harry agreed with a smile. "But why don't we talk about that later and get down to the reason we're here."

"We are not going to extradite James Francis," Miller said immediately. There was a pause.

"Well, at least there's no playing around," said Harry, letting out a sigh. "I suppose you've been made aware of the protests we're currently having. Francis's family back here are demanding he be returned and tried here, where he will not face the death penalty."

"I have," Miller told him. "But that doesn't change any of the facts of the situation. Francis committed his crimes in the US, and terrible crimes they were, and because he did so in a state that has the death penalty he has been sentenced to it. That's justice. There's no reason to let him off the hook."

"It's not like he'll just go free if he comes over here," Harry rebuked. "He'll be tried and most likely spend the rest of his life in Azkaban."

"The difference between life imprisonment and death isn't as much as you'd like to believe," Miller argued. "The difference in fact is minimal and quite frankly the fact that you are even considering this when the man is about as deserving as it gets of being given the death penalty is laughable."

"No," Harry said sharply. "What is laughable is a country as supposedly advanced as the US still having the death penalty. The state should not have the power to kill people. This should not even be an argument."

Miller leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. He reached for his water, took a sip, and briefly closed his eyes to savour it.

"You know, to be perfectly honest I'm not a big fan of the death penalty myself," he said, leaning forward to place the glass back on Harry's desk, an uncomfortable expression on his face. "But in this case it is more than deserved. James Francis wasn't just a murderer. He was a kidnapper who locked two ten year olds in a cellar with a pack of starving dogs. He was a pedophile who molested young girls in front of their parents. He was an abuser who beat and starved his girlfriend until even she, with her unendingly loyalty and psychological scarring, found the courage to call the police on him. You know this. You've read his file. Secretary Johnson would not speak so highly of you if you hadn't."

"So, tell me, why does this man deserve to live?"

There was a long silence as Noah Miller finished speaking.

Harry couldn't answer his question.

"It's not about whether he deserves to live," he said softly, shaking his head. "It's about whether we have the right to take his life."

"The state of Arizona says we do," Miller told him. "And they are the ones to pass down his judgement."

"He could have been tried in New Mexico," Harry pointed out. "Nearly half of his crimes could be traced back to the state. They don't have the death penalty there."

"And it tells you something that they chose to prosecute in Arizona instead," Miller pointed out.

"Something about the attitude of the prosecutors," Harry countered. "They wanted him dead."

"Yes," said Miller. "They wanted him dead. And I know you do too. You don't have to betray your morals and kill him. Believe me, I respect those morals. I already told you I'm not wild about the death penalty. But if you're going to go out of your way to try and spare a life, why him? Because he's British? If that's truly the only reason you stand up for his rights as opposed to any number of inmates on death's row then maybe you need to reevaluate the reason you're doing this."

Harry sat back in his seat, watching the earnest man across from him. The arguments made were strong and they reflected some of his own internal doubts, and more so what Ron had said to him earlier.

But still, this just did not sit right with him.

"Let's keep talking," he said, leaning forward to take a sip from his mug. "See what we can come up with."

Miller gazed across at him.

"Okay," he said. And he took a sip of water.

* * *

"Hermione, are you aware of the words from James Francis's brother Jeremy that, I quote, 'James must be returned to the United Kingdom as a subject born and raised in this country, to face justice the way befitting our great nation'?" Donald asked, reading from his notebook as his fellow reporters watched on.

"I am aware of them now," Hermione responded from up on the podium.

"And what is your response?" Donald asked.

"That as a man born and raised in this country we are taking a significant interest in the matter," Hermione told him. "However James Francis is also an American citizen and so simply demanding that the Americans hand him over is not right, and most importantly would not work."

"Do you know what would work?" Donald asked.

"We're in contact with the American Ministry now to see where we stand," Hermione told him. "Yes, Sophie."

"Just to come back to what Donald was saying," Sophie began as she stood up. "I've got a quote here, this one's from Warlock Alea Reed, saying that 'if the Ministry allows this to go ahead' - that's James Francis's execution - 'then they will have surrendered all moral authority'. What do you have to say to that?"

"I have to say that we respect Warlock Reed's opinion on the matter," said Hermione. "Like her the Minister and indeed myself are against the death penalty but things are more complicated than that. It is not the place of the Ministry to dictate to other countries how to run a criminal justice system."

"But what about in Peru?" Sophie questioned.

"That is an entirely different situation and you know it," Hermione said sharply. "In Peru the current regime were responsible for the violent overthrow of a democratically elected leader. The United States, however, have committed no crime. It would be a different matter if the punishment did not fit the crimes James Francis has been accused of but by the American Judicial system everything has worked precisely as it should. Michael?"

"So are you saying that it is the position of the Ministry that James Francis should be left with the Americans?" Michael asked. "Has the Minister decided to forego any sort of agreement to bring him over to this country?"

"No decision has been made at this point," Hermione informed them firmly. "We are talking to the Americans, we are talking to the protestors, and from there we will decide on the best course of action. When we do we'll be sure to let you know."

Hermione stepped down from the podium, even as several reporters tried to get their last second questions answered, and walked from the room, handing over her notes to Demelza as she went, her assistant promptly disappearing down a corridor.

"Hey," said Ron, falling into stride beside her. "I saw your briefing."

"They're against the death penalty," Hermione said simply. "Hardly surprising. There's a reason we don't have it here." She glanced at him. "Did you hear the bit about Alea?"

"Yeah," said Ron.

"That's not going to be good for Neville," Hermione commented. "And it doesn't give much hope for our negotiations with them." Ron sighed.

"She believes what she believes and she stands by that," he said simply. "I could say the same about a lot of the people here."

"Only difference is that they are doing so behind the Minister's vision," Hermione pointed out. "With Alea she has no one to advise, she is the one who has to lead."

They reached Hermione's office.

"Anyway, we'll just have to see how this goes," she said, rounding her desk and moving around some papers as Ron followed her inside. "I wonder how Harry's getting on. Has he finished talking?"

"He was still meeting when I left," Ron told her. He hesitated. "Hermione, I have something I need to talk to you about." He closed her door.

"What is it?" She asked, looking slightly wary by his suddenly changing behaviour. Ron shifted awkwardly.

"I had an… unusual meeting," he told her, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he pursed his lips. "Barnabus Lee came to see me."

"Okay," said Hermione. "Who is that?" Ron fought an eye roll.

"He's the owner of the Chudley Cannons," he explained. Comprehension dawned on Hermione's face.

"I think I remember," she told him. "So, what was the meeting about? What did Lee want?"

"Well," said Ron hesitantly. "He wanted to offer me a job."

"A what?" Hermione gasped.

"A job," Ron repeated. "He wanted me to be some sort of ambassador for the Cannons."

"You're not going to take it, are you?" Hermione asked, aghast. "You'd have to leave this job. You love it here."

"Yes, I do," Ron agreed. "But that's a problem." Ron took a breath. "Barnabus seems to think that the Minister won't run for reelection." Hermione looked at him.

"So?" She asked. "What does he know?"

"A lot, apparently," said Ron, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's heard the rumours about Duncan Ecclestone too, he's really clued in. And he knows that the real reason dad ran in the first place was because of Amos telling him to. And he thinks that he won't run. And truth be told I've started to wonder the same thing."

Hermione bit her lip.

"No one knows what the Minister will do," she said softly. "He might not run but to predict that with any degree of certainty…" she paused. "I don't know. Only the Minister can truly say whether he's going to run or not."

"But what if he doesn't?" Ron asked, falling into the seat across from her and leaning forward intently. "What if he decides not to run and… that's it. Our work here is over in about a year and a half and then we'll have to clear out for the new people. What happens to us then?"

"Well," said Hermione. "Well, then we move on. We take on new opportunities, try out new things. Who knows, the next Minister might even want us to stay on. There's really no saying what will happen but… well, these four years will certainly have done some good for our resumes." Ron snorted.

"So what would you do?" he asked. "If the Minister doesn't run and we have to leave these jobs behind, what's your plan?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Hermione, considering the idea. "I suppose I'd quite like to stay in government work. Maybe I could become a full time lawyer, or perhaps join the staff of one of the warlocks of the wizengoamot."

"You could run for the wizengoamot yourself, you know," Ron told her. "You're smart and talented, you'd make a great warlock." Hermione smiled.

"Thanks," she said. "But I don't know about being the person making the big decisions. Maybe I'm better suited as an advisor." She glanced over at him. "So what about you?" She asked. "What would you do?"

Ron shrugged.

"Maybe take up Barnabus's offer," he said offhandedly. "Spend my time helping out the Cannons. It was my dream job when I was a kid. That and be a muggle firefighter, but that was only because of the Martin Miggs comics dad always got me."

"You'd really want to do that?" Hermione asked doubtfully. "Somehow I don't think that would satisfy you."

"Maybe not," Ron shrugged. "But I'll have the offer, so…" He looked away.

"I think you'd be better off working in politics," Hermione told him. "I know I'd quite like to continue working with you." Ron turned to her.

"Yeah?" He asked, meeting her gaze. Hermione nodded, a small smile on her face.

* * *

Harry walked the halls of the Ministry, physically drained, many of the workers having already left as he made his way towards the Minister's office.

"Is he free?" He asked as he reached Daphne and Blaise's workstations, Blaise just closing the Minister's office door behind him. Blaise nodded.

Harry walked forward and knocked on the door.

"Enter," the Minister's voice called from inside and Harry pushed the door open and softly closed it behind him. "Harry."

The Minister's office was dark, his large magical windows showing the night sky from outside. The Minister himself was sitting behind his desk, his glasses sitting on the end of his nose as he scribbled away at something with a quill, only looking up to greet him.

"Good evening, Minister," Harry told him, wandering further into the room and stopping by his desk. The Minister removed his glasses, placing down his quill.

"You've been meeting with the Americans?" He asked. "Where do we stand?"

"The Americans don't want to hand him over," Harry told him, taking a deep breath. "He committed his crimes on American soil, he is an American citizen, his victims were American citizens. Quite simply they have every reason to keep him and we have no real argument against that."

"They were not to be persuaded then?" The Minister asked.

"They were adamant," Harry told him. "I get the feeling that this case his gripped the national attention of the US just like it has here, if only for different reasons."

"I've read his crimes," the Minister commented. "They're bad."

"An understatement, sir," said Harry. The Minister nodded. "James Francis's crimes have enraged the public as well as the prosecutors. They do not have the same clinical detachment that would help our cause."

"And do you not believe there are ways we might be able to convince the American government otherwise?" The Minister queried. "Surely there is something we could offer them, something that they want from us in a quid pro quo type of arrangement."

"It is possible," Harry said uneasily. "If we were to give up something the Americans saw as of equal or greater value than avoiding the backlash they would get by releasing Francis into our custody then it could certainly happen. But I wouldn't do it, sir."

"You wouldn't?" Said the Minister. "You're not against the death penalty?"

"I am," Harry told him. "But sir, this isn't some guy who is being unfairly treated. This isn't someone who walked into a country ignorant of their laws and found himself come afoul of them. James Francis's crimes - murder, rape, torture, pedophilia - they are not the actions of a good man and they are more than deserving of such a fate."

"But it is not our right to decide that," the Minister argued.

"It's not us that is deciding that," Harry pointed out. "And in a perfect world I would certainly want to stop James Francis from being executed and have him locked up in Azkaban for the rest of his life, but… in this world that would come at a cost, and there are people far more worthy of our aid than James Francis."

The Minister sat in his seat in silence, considering what Harry said as tired eyes stared across the room. He closed them, rubbing them softly, before he turned back to face Harry.

"It pains me to say this," he said, his voice weary. "But I believe you are right. This battle we must concede."

"There will be plenty of fights worth fighting, sir," Harry told him firmly. "And I promise that the next time something like this comes along that I will be fighting right along side you."

"Small comfort to Jeremy Francis," the Minister murmured. "I saw him on the news, telling the story of how he and James used to play in the stream, how he'd always tried to look out for him. How heartbroken he will be. How much he will hate me."

"He can hate you all he wants, sir," said Harry. "But you didn't make James Francis the man he was. I don't know who is to blame but he grew up with his family in Kent and if they had done a better job teaching him the morals of basic human decency then your morals wouldn't have to be so sorely tested now."

The Minister shook his head. "A man like that…" He sighed. "There is no doubt in my mind that he has been messed up beyond help. No human could act like he has. Maybe his family are to blame for that. Maybe they just had the bad luck of loving someone bad. We may never know."

"Francis's execution date has been set," Harry told him. "Christmas Eve, they're not messing around. The Americans are going to say they will not be releasing him to us. We should alert the press that we are not going to be asking for him." The Minister nodded.

"Tell them," he said tiredly. "Tell them and then get yourself out of here, Harry. It's been a long day and it is about time you got some rest, and hopefully that will go some way in helping us put this unpleasant experience behind us."

Harry nodded. He turned to leave.

"Sir," he said, turning back. "I was wondering if you'd heard… about Ecclestone." The Minister inclined his head.

"That he is planning on running for Minister," he said. "Yes, I've heard the rumours too."

"Well, what do you think?" Harry asked. The Minister looked thoughtful.

"Duncan Ecclestone is a very well respected, seasoned politician," he said. "He stepped down from the Wizengamot for family reasons, or so he said. Now, with his wife having recently passed away, it seems he's ready for one last hurrah."

"And what about you, sir?" Harry asked. "Are you ready for one last hurrah?" The Minister looked at him. "You haven't said anything. And even though it's early, with competition showing itself you should be preparing if you're going to run."

"I don't know whether or not I'll run again," the Minister told Harry. "In truth I have avoided thinking about it as much as I can."

"Well, people are starting to question," Harry told him. "It's mostly internal right now but others are starting to connect the dots. Ron's already been given a job offer for after you supposedly leave."

"Really?" Said the Minister, surprised. "Who offered?"

"Barnabus Lee of the Chudley Cannons."

"The Chudley Cannons," the Minister repeated, a soft smile spreading over his face. "I'm surprised Ron isn't already out the door."

"He doesn't want to leave, sir," Harry said anxiously. "None of us do. If you decide to run again then each and every one of us will be on board and will do everything we can to get you reelected and then to make your second term just as successful as your first. You have our full support, sir. We just need to know if you want it."

There was a long pause as the Minister pondered his response.

"I…" he said slowly. "I do not know. As I said I have done my best not to think about it. It just seems to have come by again way too soon, there is still so much governing to be done. There's still time."

"Not much," Harry told him. "The moment Ecclestone publicly announces he's running the first thing the reporters will do is ask you if you are doing the same."

"Then I need to make my mind up," the Minister concluded. "Fortunately I have the holidays to do so. That is providing Ecclestone doesn't make his announcement in the next couple of days, which I highly doubt. In the meantime I will have a good think about it."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry.

"Not a problem," said the Minister. "Now, why don't we forget about all this business for a moment and focus on what really matters. I hear you've got quite the gathering arranged for Christmas Eve." Harry flushed.

"Ah, you see, we were going to invite you, Minister," Harry stammered but the Minister just waved him away, chuckling.

"I completely understand, Harry," he told him. "Christmas Eve will be a night for the younger generations to enjoy. Have fun, and I will see you on Christmas Day at the Burrow." Harry smiled.

"Yes sir," he said, and after a slight pause he left the office.

Inside the Minister watched the door close with a slowly fading smile. It had been a taxing day, one with a far from satisfying outcome, and now he had a lot of thinking to do. He closed his eyes and sighed.

* * *

"Hey, are you just leaving?" Hermione asked, popping her head into Ron's office. Tinsel from the recently erected Christmas decorations fell in her face as she peered in, causing her to swat it away.

Three days had passed since the Ministry had made their decision on the fate of James Francis and now everyone was gathering up their belongings and preparing to go home for the holidays.

"Uh," Ron said awkwardly, looking up. "Kind of." He held up a suit-case, his suit for Harry and Ginny's gathering inside.

"I didn't really want to head back to my flat after work," he explained. "You know how it is. So I thought I'd change here instead but, well, every time I close the door someone else comes in." He flushed. "Lizzie caught me with my fly down."

"Oh," said Hermione, trying hard not to laugh. "How… unfortunate." Ron gave her an unamused look.

"Anyway, I was planning on just waiting it out," he told her, putting the suit-case down again. "People will leave eventually. I hope." Hermione smiled.

"Why don't you come back to my place," she suggested. "I've got to stop off there to change anyway, I could do with the company."

"You sure?" Ron asked doubtfully. "You don't mind me coming?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm not a prude, Ronald," she scolded. "I can survive you changing in the room next door." Ron flushed.

"Eh, alright then," he said, standing up awkwardly. "Are you going now? I just need to gather up my stuff." He picked up his suit-case, laying it on his desk, and reached down into a drawer, pulling out a small bag. "I got some wine," he told her, removing the bottle and showing it to her.

"Oh, what kind?" Hermione asked interestedly. Ron squinted down at the bottle.

"Eh, Argentinian," he said uncertainly. "Is that good? They do good wine there, right?"

"Give it here," said Hermione. Ron handed it over.

"Ah, Don Cristobal, Triana," Hermione read. "A dry, full bodied red from the Mendoza Region." Ron stared at her. "Dad is a bit of a connoisseur," she explained. "I picked up a bit of it over the years."

"Right," said Ron, reaching over to retrieve the bottle and slipping it back into the bag. "Something I didn't know about you. And I thought I had you pegged." He placed the bag down on his desk, and let out a sigh.

"Ron?" Hermione questioned. Ron glanced up at her. "Something wrong?"

Ron waved her away.

"It's nothing," he said dismissively. "It's just… you know, this is all so grown up. Harry and Ginny hosting everyone for a holiday meal. I know they're married, and they've been married for months now, but it just seems as though they've all of a sudden become adults." Hermione laughed.

"Maybe it seems all of a sudden," she told him. "But they haven't really changed. And just look at the two of us, talking about wine of all things." Ron snorted, shaking his head.

"I know, it's awful," he joked, sharing a smile. "But I just can't help thinking… god, I wish I could just go back, you know. To when it was just me, you and Harry, having fun at Hogwarts, enjoying being young and carefree, and then after when we were still young but we were able to do whatever we wanted. And now we're here, thinking of whether the Minister will run for reelection or if we should take on the Americans to save someone from death's row. Things are just so much more complicated now."

"It was a simpler time," Hermione agreed. "And I do miss it. But we're doing so much good now, so much more than our past selves could ever have even dreamed of. We're making a difference and to be honest I could not imagine myself being anywhere better than where I am right now."

"Sure, in work," said Ron. "But what about in other ways?" Hermione hesitated.

"Other ways?" She asked.

"Like…" Ron sighed. "Like dating and going out and being with people," he said. "You know, with Harry married and, you know, children are bound to be on the horizon the way those two go at it, I just can't help but wonder if it's time for me to… I don't know, find someone? Settle down?"

"You tried that," Hermione reminded him. "With Josephine." Ron rubbed his face.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I just… It worked for Harry. And with him married and all I don't want to be left behind. I don't want to be that guy who stays single, still caring more about Quidditch than I do about dating, until I die all alone at the age of sixty from a well deserved heart attack. I don't want to lose my friends because I couldn't keep up."

Hermione watched him. She'd never heard Ron talk like this before. She supposed that since Josephine Ron had changed a lot without her noticing.

She walked over.

"Come on," she said, pulling him up to his feet as he gave her a questioning look. "Let's get out of here and get changed. We wouldn't want to be late." Ron nodded. "And we can talk more about this on the way," Hermione added. Ron looked at her.

"Thank you, Hermione," he told her and, with his suit-case and bag in hand, he walked with her out his office door.

* * *

The living area was bright and cheerful, already filled with chatter as Harry pulled open the door to find Ron and Hermione standing before him.

"Happy Christmas Eve," Hermione told him, stepping through and giving him a hug.

"Happy Christmas Eve," Harry said in return, gripping her back. "Thank god you're here, I thought something terrible had happened when you didn't turn up an hour early worried you were going to be late." Hermione hit him on the arm, though she smiled as she moved away from him.

"Hey mate," said Ron, stepping in after her. "Got you something. Finest wine from Argentina. A Triana, Don Mendoza… something."

"I see," Harry said seriously as he accepted it, reading the label. "This looks very nice."

Hermione shook her head, giving an exasperated sigh.

"Neither of you have any idea, do you," she said. Harry and Ron shared a look.

"She knows wine," Ron muttered conspiratorially. "And here I thought alcohol was something we had over her." Harry grinned.

"Come on in," he told them, leading them forward and towards the kitchen, where Harry found a corkscrew and began going to work on the bottle. "We're still waiting for a few others but food is just about ready. Ginny has been really nervous."

Over in the sitting room Ginny could be seen on the sofa, not looking nervous at all as she chatted with Luna, looking as serene as ever, and a quite beautiful looking Cho, who, as Harry had suspected, had brought Colin along with her, while Dennis and Lizzie chatted away by the window, talking with one of Ginny's potions buddies from work.

"So, what kept you?" Harry asked, pulling the cork loose and proceeding to pour out copious amounts of the liquid into three wine glasses. "Are you here together on purpose?"

"Hermione let me change at her place," Ron informed him. "And you know how girls are with getting dressed and all that." Hermione looked scandalised.

"Excuse me, I was waiting for you," she admonished, Ron ducking his head to hide his grin. "On that note, how did you take so long? Seriously, Harry, I was ready for about half an hour before he reappeared."

"I believe you," Harry chuckled. "He was the same back at Hogwarts. Every time there was a ball he was always the last ready."

"Well, I had a lot of work to do to look presentable back then, didn't I," Ron protested. "It was easy for the rest of you, with actual decent clothes. Mine looked like they came out of a shakespearian play. And only you can pull off the just got out of bed look, Harry, when I try it I look like a yeti."

"And all the time you spent on your appearance fixed that how?" Hermione teased. Ron frowned at her.

"I thought you were being nice to me," he accused.

"That's before you decided to throw me under the bus," Hermione countered. She turned to Harry. "He had a bit of a wobbly earlier."

"Hey," Ron protested. Hermione ignored him.

"He seems certain that you are too much of a grown up for him now and that you're going to move on and replace him, presumably with a younger model," Hermione said, to Ron's dismay. "I think he's worried you'll find your own children cooler than him."

"I did not say that," Ron defended. "I just said that you're a grown up, that's all." Harry chuckled.

"We're back at this?" He asked in amusement. "Ron, you way overestimate how adult and mature I am. And kids are a long way in the future."

"Yeah, you say that now," Ron grumbled. "But last time you said that about marriage and before that it was about dating and moving in. Who's to say next week you won't come out and announce Ginny's pregnant?"

"And if I do?" Harry asked. "You really think I'll stop wanting to hang out with you because I have kids. Honestly," he glanced around nervously, lowering his voice, "honestly I'm likely to spend _more_ time with you."

"Harry," Hermione scolded. Harry had the decency to look ashamed.

"All I'm saying is that you guys are my friends," Harry finished, taking a sip from his glass and contemplating the taste. "You've stuck by me through some tough times and no matter what I'm not going to forget about you. I love you guys. You mean the world to me."

Hermione smiled at him, her eyes suspiciously moist, while Ron ducked his head in embarrassment, sniffing suspiciously.

"Steady on, mate," he muttered. "You're married." Harry shook his head, laughing.

He gazed out into the living room as Hermione scolded Ron for ruining the moment and his eyes fell upon the Lupins, having just arrived. Remus and Tonks were standing, talking with Cho and Colin, while Ginny was chatting with Teddy, the boy seated on the sofa beside her. As she spoke she glanced up and caught his eye, smiling as she saw him, and Harry smiled back, raising his glass to his lips with a warm glow in his chest.

* * *

The atmosphere in the Burrow couldn't have been any more different. It was quiet when the Minister apparated in, the only signs of life being from the kitchen where light poured through the doorway, the sounds of Molly cooking drifting through as he hung his cloak up on the hook.

"Honey, I'm home," he called and immediately he heard her reaction, smiling to himself as he stepped towards the door and a moment later was met by his loving wife, who engulfed him in a warm hug.

"You're earlier than I expected," Molly told him before fixing him with a firm look, "but still later than you said you would be." Arthur chuckled.

"I apologise, I had a few things to finish up with before I left," he told her. "It's been a difficult week." Molly's look softened.

"It's about that man, isn't it," she said. "He's been all over the news." Arthur nodded his head solemnly.

Molly patted him on the shoulder. "Come on in and sit down," she instructed, leading him forcefully into the kitchen before going back to the stove. "Dinner is almost ready. You should eat up and then get some sleep. You should enjoy your holiday."

"And I plan to," Arthur assured her, wandering up to his seat at the table and settling himself down in it. "And I'm not the only one. I'm sure you're aware of Harry and Ginny's gathering tonight." Molly snorted.

"More than aware," she informed him as she stood over the stove. "Ginny has been on the phone here on and off all day. It took all of my self control not to go over there and supervise her cooking in person. Even now I worry."

"I'm sure it's fine," Arthur said, smiling benignly. "Ginny is a potion maker by trade. I'm sure her calls here were purely based on nerves, and not lack of ability. Undoubtedly she sees this as quite a big step for her, for both of them I imagine."

"I bet she's wishing she payed more attention when she was growing up," Molly told him, bustling around. "I tried to prepare her for just this sort of occasion." She let out a sigh. "But oh, she is grown up isn't she. Hosting friends for the holidays, and married too. It's just a matter of time before she has a family of her own, just like Bill and Fleur, and Percy and Audrey."

"I'd say she already has," Arthur told her. "After all, I had a family in you long before Bill was born." Molly gave him a fond smile.

"Not that long, Arthur," she reminded him. Arthur chuckled.

Molly began dealing out their meal onto two plates, bringing them over to the table for them to eat, and Arthur gratefully dug in, glad, not for the first time, to be married to such a wonderful cook. As he ate he smiled at her, and briefly squeezed her hand.

With the food gone and Molly successfully forcing him into eating seconds he sat back in his chair, stuffed and content. But as Molly moved to wash the dishes Arthur's good humour started to fade.

"Arthur?" He glanced up to see his wife looking down at him in worry.

"I'm fine, Mollywobbles," he assured her, but she wasn't convinced.

She sat down. "It's that Francis man, isn't it," she said. "He's stuck on your mind."

"A bit," Arthur admitted. "I've had to grapple with myself quite thoroughly over the course of the last couple of weeks."

"And?" Molly asked. "What's going to happen?" Arthur grimaced.

"He's going to die," he said heavily. "Later today, in fact. The Americans would not send him back and, quite frankly, there was little reason for them to do so. In the end it was better to simply let the matter rest. We've got to pick our battles, as it were, and James Francis was not a battle worth fighting."

"That doesn't sound like you," Molly told him. "You've never given up on anybody."

"Maybe," Arthur admitted. "But it is out of my hands. Is doing nothing just as bad as killing him myself?" Molly gazed at him and Arthur understood what she was saying. "An answer I must discover for myself," he acknowledged.

There was a brief pause. He took a breath.

"There have been rumours of a potential challenger for my job," he announced, watching his wife carefully. "Duncan Ecclestone is apparently planning to run and once he announces, which has to be soon, it will come down to me to make my own decision."

"And what is your decision, Arthur?" Molly asked. Arthur sighed.

"I do not yet know," he admitted. "Days like this, they drain me, Molly. They make me question whether or not I'm up for it. But at the same time I believe I can still do so much good."

"And Ecclestone?" Molly asked. "Would he do good?" Arthur shrugged.

"I suppose," he said. "We agree on a few things but very little, truth be told. But is he competent? Yes. Do I wish to pass on the torch to him? That is a much more difficult question to answer."

"And is there perhaps someone else you could support?" Molly asked. "Someone who you trust and who shares your ideals."

"Perhaps," Arthur told her. "But they are not running as far as I know. Who knows whether such a person will decide to run, even if I were to step down. Could I risk that?" He looked over at his wife.

"You know my position, Arthur," she told him. "I don't like what it does to you. But you're a good man, and you have done some good, and if you want to run again I will not stop you."

"I spoke with Harry about it a few days ago," Arthur told her. "I said I'd come to a decision over the holidays." Molly nodded.

"Then you know what you have to do," she said and she stood up, swishing her wand at the sink so that the dishes began to clean themselves. "I'll be going up to bed now. Don't stay up too late, Arthur. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Molly," Arthur said quietly as his wife turned and left the room, leaving him alone to his thoughts to ponder perhaps the biggest decision of his life.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I know it's been a long time since I last updated but hopefully it was worth the wait.

If you enjoyed please leave a Review and also if you want to get updates from this and my other works follow me on Twitter at KnightWolfsbane.


	17. Decision

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"Hermione, it's been said that the BMRA - the British Magical Research Authority - are visiting the Ministry today to speak with several members of the senior staff," said Donald. "Any comments?"

"A while back the BMRA approached us about the possibility of using a modified form of the Imperius curse to help in the treatment of certain mental disorders," Hermione explained. "Unfortunately at the time it was the Wizengamot elections so discussions on the matter were put on hold. Now that the new Wizengamot is seated and have had time to get to grips with the job we are willing to discuss the matter more fully."

"Who from the BMRA are to be expected?" Asked Donald. Hermione consulted her papers.

"Operating Director of Mental Health and Deputy Operating Director Tobias Pearson and Madeline Donaldson will be leading the group," Hermione announced. "Also attending will be the Research Coordinator and Deputy Research Coordinator Donny Key and Clara Reece, Finance Director Howard Church and Head Magical Theorist Phillis Kay."

"And from the Ministry?"

"Harry, Neville and Amos are due to take this meeting," Hermione informed them. "Annabelle?"

"Thank you," said Annabelle. "I would just like to ask what influence you think having a man such as Amos Diggory in the room, considering his history, will have on the discussions."

"I imagine it will only be a positive," said Hermione. "Amos has first hand experience and will know better than anyone the suffering that solutions like this may solve."

"And there's no worries that this may introduce a bias?" Asked Annabelle.

"Have you met Amos?" Hermione remarked. A small ripple of laughter filled the room. "Yes, Susie?"

"Is there concern in the Ministry of a potential public backlash about legalising one of the three Unforgivable Curses, considering these spells have been outlawed for generations?" She asked, looking to Hermione expectantly.

"We believe the public are smart enough to realise we are not advocating for full legalisation," Hermione told her. "The potential for its use in the medical field has yet to be fully discussed but will most likely take the form of a waiver from the Wizengamot to allow the BMRA to use the spell for research purposes. Depending on the outcomes we may be able to make further amendments to the law to allow it to be used in a practical medical setting. Michael?"

"A small diversion of topic, if you don't mind," Michael announced, standing up with his notebook in hand. "We are now into the latter end of the Minister's term of office and I was wondering what you could say about the Minister's plans to run for reelection."

"It is far too early to begin talking about the election," Hermione said briskly. "There's well over a year before voting starts."

"And yet we have had past administrations state their intention to run, or otherwise, well before this point," Michael pointed out. "Has the Minister said anything?"

"No, he has not," Hermione said simply.

"In private?" Michael asked. Hermione shook her head

"Well then, can you ask him for us?" Said Michael. "It would be useful to know for the general public whether Minister Weasley is planning to run for a second term."

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Hermione told him. She cleared her throat. "Okay, that's everything for just now. I'll be back here later if you have any further questions." She gathered up her papers and strode from the room.

"Oh god, it's happening," she cursed as she walked alongside Demelza. "I thought we'd get a little further… dammit, Michael."

"I heard my name, that's not good." Michael had hurried after her and now was walking in stride. "Don't tell me you're mad at me."

"That was so out of left field," Hermione accused him. "Why did you bring it up?"

"Past administrations…" Michael began.

"By past administrations you mean the Fudge one," Hermione snapped. "Don't play games with me, Michael, I wasn't born yesterday." Michael sighed.

"I just asked," he said simply. "The people have the right to know."

"It's too early."

"It's never too early," Michael denied. He stopped them short, glancing around to make sure they weren't being overheard.

"Look," he said, lowering his voice. "I didn't just come at you with this out of the blue to try and make life difficult for you. There's been plenty of talk about Duncan Ecclestone making a run."

"Those talks have been going on for months now," Hermione responded.

"Yes, well, apparently it's about to be more than just talk," Michael told her. He glanced around, lowering his voice further. "Apparently he's ready to announce."

"He is?" Hermione asked. "When?"

"Don't know," said Michael. "But it will be soon, maybe as soon as later today. I thought I should give you a heads up. This is something you really have to be focused with _now_." Michael sighed.

"I should get going," he said. "Good luck." And he strode off.

Hermione watched him go.

"Demelza," she said, eyes gazing down the corridor after him. "Call Daphne. We need a meeting."

* * *

Half an hour later found Ron, Hermione, Dennis and Remus standing in the Minister's office, waiting for him to return.

The door opened.

"Okay, what's this all about?" The Minister asked as he strode into the room. "I just got out of a meeting with Kingsley about the situation in Peru and Blaise told me we had an urgent meeting here. What's going on?"

"I got a question in this morning's briefing," said Hermione as everyone turned to her. "Michael Corner asked if you were running for Minister again." The Minister paused. He sank into his seat with a sigh.

"What did you tell him?" He asked heavily.

"That we hadn't spoken about it and that it was too early to be making an announcement," Hermione said promptly. "But we're on a timer. Michael came to speak with me later. Apparently Duncan Ecclestone is about to announce."

"Once Ecclestone does there will be no avoiding the questions," said Ron. "The BMRA, Peru, nothing will keep them back. At least not for long."

The Minister sighed.

"Where're the others?" He asked, gesturing across at them. "Where's Amos and Harry and Neville?"

"Meeting with the BMRA," said Dennis. "I'm not sure they're going to have much of a chance to speak with us. Harry indicated he thought they were going to be tied up for most of the day." The Minister nodded.

"Alright," he said softly. "I suppose we'll do this without them." There was a pause.

"We need to make a plan for how we're going to deal with this," Remus spoke up. "For starters we need to know your decision. Are you running?"

The staff looked expectantly at the Minister. He looked away.

"I haven't decided yet," he said softly, gazing out one of the magnificent fake windows. "I had planned to have a decision by the time we returned from the holidays but… I've been going back and forth. I haven't yet come to a conclusion."

There was silence as the staff watched him.

"Well, you have to make one now," said Hermione apologetically. "Michael's started the questioning and once Ecclestone announces it's going to be a wave, and the longer we don't answer the worse we look."

"If our answer is yes then we should get out ahead of the curve," argued Ron, turning to Hermione. "Release before Ecclestone has a chance. Steal his thunder."

"It would most likely force him to reschedule," said Remus. "Even though he's well known he has been out of politics and the public eye. He can't afford for his announcement speech to be drowned out. Knock him down to third in a two horse race."

"And crippling a man of his standing could be crucial to reelection," said Ron. "We should absolutely try and drown out his announcement with our own. That is, so long as you are planning to run."

They fell silent once more as they turned to the Minister.

The Minister took a breath.

"Give me some time," he asked of them, feeling the heavy weight of the decision bearing down on him. "Give me until tomorrow at least. I'll do my best to have an answer for you then."

The others stood awkwardly across the desk from him, recognising they were being dismissed, and with a few nods of the head they left the room.

* * *

"Good morning," Harry said cheerfully as he stepped into Meeting Room 1, the assorted guests rising to their feet to greet him as Neville and Amos followed in behind. "Pleased to see you all again, Tobias, Madeline, Donny, Phillis, even Howard. I trust you are familiar with my companions?"

"Yes," Tobias Pearson said enthusiastically, shaking Neville and Amos's hands. "Fantastic to see you Mr Longbottom. And Mr Diggory, a real pleasure." Amos raised an eyebrow.

Harry gestured for everyone to take a seat.

"Where's Ms Reece?" Harry asked as he lowered himself into a seat, frowning. "I thought she was meant to be joining us."

"Clara has unfortunately been unable to make it," Tobias said regretfully.

"She's currently in St Mungo's getting checked out," Donny Key told them. "She's not been doing so well lately."

"I hope she's alright," said Neville as he sat beside Harry.

"As do we," said Tobias. He propped up his fingers. "So, why don't we get down to business."

"Certainly," agreed Harry, sitting forward in his seat. "Why don't I recap where we were from our last meeting. We came to no agreements, obviously, but I was suitably impressed by the potential applications of this work and so I've brought a couple of my colleagues to share their views as well."

"Which are?" Howard Church said bluntly.

"If the Imperius curse can be used safely to good effect then it seems like something that is worthwhile for us to pursue," said Neville quickly. "Obviously we've only heard second hand from Harry what you've said so we'd appreciate it if you could give us a rundown of where you think this research can lead."

"Certainly," said Tobias. "Well, as you know mental health problems are notoriously difficult to treat. In fact I'd even go so far to say that in this area we trail behind even our muggle colleagues. The idea that magic can fix everything has often held us back in the course of wizarding history and it seemed like this may be another case of it, but perhaps not. No spell has such complete control of the mind as the Imperius curse. If there is a cure to these mental conditions then it is almost bound to lie here, with this curse."

"What sort of conditions do you see this curse helping with?" Neville asked.

"Well, at this point, anything," Tobias told him. "From Insomnia to Anxiety to Depression, anything with a mental component can be potentially targeted, including some diseases we more commonly associate with other parts of the body."

"What about addiction?" Amos asked gruffly.

"Uh, yes, it could work for addiction too," Tobias said quickly. "Alcohol addiction, gambling addiction, eating disorders."

"So how would that work?" Amos asked bluntly. "You put the curse on them and tell them not to drink? That doesn't sound much like a cure to me."

"Well, yes, obviously that would only be a stopgap measure," said Tobias. "Ideally we'd want to target the patients desire to drink, rather than their ability to do so, as that is where the issue is. But of course weaning off medication is an important part of anything you could dare to call a cure. In such a scenario you could potentially have a situation where the curses strength lessens over time and the patients brain learns to take up those same impulses as it goes."

"And you think that's likely," said Amos doubtfully. "That the addict won't just go back to their previous thoughts."

"Well, of course we don't know," said Tobias anxiously. "But in theory and given the right modifications…"

"Fine," Amos barked out, crossing his arms with a glower. The people from the BMRA shifted uncomfortably. Harry and Neville shared a worried glance.

"Let's talk about how your research would work," Neville said, leaning forward and taking the attention off Amos.

As he did Harry glanced behind his back, taking in Amos's rough form.

What was going on?

* * *

"Are you sure this is what Harry wanted me to look over?" Dennis asked, looking down at the paper in his hand.

"Let me see," said Lizzie, pulling it away from him. "Yes." She dropped it back into his hand.

"Okay," said Dennis as he sat down behind his desk. "But I've got to say I feel a little overqualified. I mean, this is a retirement message."

"That's right," said Lizzie. Dennis looked up at her.

"A retirement message," Dennis repeated.

They stared at each other.

"Dennis," Ron knocked on the door, striding inside. "Have you got a moment?"

"Thank god, yes," Dennis breathed in relief. "What do you need?"

"I've got a task for you," Ron told him. "You're not busy, are you?"

"Not at all," Dennis assured him, giving Lizzie a firm look. "That will be all, Lizzie." Lizzie did not look happy.

"You'll have to do it eventually," she warned him but she strolled out of the room anyway, closing the door behind her.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked, glancing at the paper on Dennis's desk.

"Oh, nothing important," said Dennis, waving it away. "Harry apparently wanted me to write a message for someone named Bert Hornage. Have you heard of him?"

"Oh yeah, Bert," said Ron. "Works down in magical maintenance. I've heard he's finally retiring, I imagine they must be throwing him some sort of farewell party or something. He's been with the Ministry forever."

"Seems a little low on the ladder to be getting a retirement message from the Minister," Dennis commented.

"Yes, well, magical maintenance have some sway with these things," Ron said with a grimace. "You don't want to get on their bad side or they'll give you thunderstorms for weeks." He jerked his head to Dennis's window. "Paying them off like this really is the easiest way."

"Noted," said Dennis. "I'll get right on it then. Now, what is it you needed me for?" Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"I need your speechwriting skills," he told him grimly. "The Minister is going to have to make a statement regarding reelection at some point. I'd ask Harry to do it but he's busy with the BMRA and we're probably going to need it sooner rather than later."

"Right," said Dennis, feeling a little ill. "I can do that, I suppose. What's the scenario you're thinking of? Is this supposed to be a big speech or just a statement for him to read out from the podium?"

"A statement, most likely," said Ron. "But it's entirely possible we could need a big speech sooner or later. Certainly if he does decide to run again we'll be heading straight into reelection mode. You weren't there last time but campaigning takes you all over the place and the Minister is going to need to have something to say wherever he goes."

"Sounds like fun," Dennis said lightly. Ron shrugged.

"I suppose it was," he said. "I was stressed beyond belief but there were those moments, when we found ourselves gaining in the polls, after some of those key debates where the Minister just came out swinging." Ron shrugged. "We were the underdogs. Nothing was expected of us. No pressure. It won't be the same this time."

"You think he is going to run?" Dennis asked. "He didn't look so confident earlier." Ron hesitated.

"I don't know," he said simply. "I've had doubts for months now but… I just don't know what he's going to do. I mean, he's my father, I really should understand him by now."

"But I'm guessing it's the first time he's been in a situation like this," Dennis noted. "He doesn't seem to know what he's going to do any more than we do." Dennis hesitated. "For what it's worth, I think he'll run."

"You do?" Said Ron.

"The Minister has been faced with tough decision after tough decision for the entirety of the time I've worked here," Dennis told him. "And he's always done the right thing. Every single time. I'm sure he's going to do so again."

"You're assuming the right thing is for him to run," Ron noted.

"Isn't it?" Asked Dennis. Ron shrugged.

"I'm sure Duncan Ecclestone would disagree," he said. "We've ruffled more than a few feathers in the last couple of years. We've got enemies. Mostly racists and bigots but, hey, they still have support in the wizarding community. And up against someone like Ecclestone… if the Minister isn't really up for it then maybe he shouldn't run. Maybe he should let someone else take the charge."

"But who would that be?" Dennis wondered. "Do you know of anyone who would be able to do this job the way the Minister has? Because if you do then you should say now. If the Minister has a successor then maybe that'll be what it takes for him to make up his mind and say no. If there's no-one… then the Minister has no other choice but to run."

"Yeah," Ron murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. "That's about right." He sighed, then straightened up.

"You'll write the statements?" He asked, turning to leave. "One for if he decides to run and one if he decides not to."

"I will," Dennis promised.

"If we still haven't heard about Ecclestone by the end of today show them to Harry if you can," Ron told him, Dennis nodding. "And remember, Bert Hornage."

"Right," said Dennis. "I'll remember. See you later." Ron nodded and strode from the room.

Outside Ron hurried through the corridors of the Ministry, his mind focused, and soon enough he was walking into the Minister's outer office.

"Is he in?" He asked. Blaise nodded. Ron walked up to the door.

"Enter," the Minister called and Ron walked inside, gently closing the door behind him. "Ron, what do you have for me?"

"Nothing," Ron told him. He walked further into the room, the Minister watching him intently as he drew closer, and he stood over the Minister's desk. "I wanted to have a conversation with you."

The Minister took off his glasses.

"A conversation, you say," he said, placing the spectacles down on the desk and gazing up at him tiredly. "Do I need to ask on what subject this conversation will be on?"

Ron lowered himself into the seat by his desk.

"Minister, we've got a very small window here," he said urgently. "Ecclestone is bound to announce his candidacy at any moment. I've already been hearing word that he's in his old constituency right now, preparing a speech. He's going to run. You can't keep putting this off."

"I am aware of that, Ron," the Minister said tiredly. "Indeed for months now I have been grappling with whether or not I should run. I've spoken with Amos about it, with your mother, with Harry even."

"Well, now you're talking about it with me," Ron told him. "And we are getting down to an answer. Because time has run out. We've got to know." The Minister looked at him sadly.

"But see," he breathed, "that's the problem. I do not know. I could very well tell all of you that I am or am not running but that would be putting myself in danger of outright lying to you. How can I say one way or the other when I myself have not been able to settle on an answer?"

"Maybe that means you shouldn't run," said Ron grimly. "If you can't decide then… if you don't have the sense of purpose to drive you then you won't win reelection anyway. The best bet for you would be to stand aside and let someone else challenge Ecclestone, someone you can trust to continue all the fine work you've done so far. Do you know of anyone who could take over this job just as well as you?"

"I know many people," the Minister chuckled lightly. "Most of them are in this building and most of them would undoubtedly do an even better job than I. But would they want to run. I doubt it. After all, you wouldn't."

"Who says that?" Ron questioned.

"I do," the Minister replied simply. "You would undoubtedly be able to do this job well but you would never want to. You want to work behind the scenes, to be the man that the man relies on to wade through the politics and allow him to do some good. If I thought for even a moment you would run I might take the time to try and convince you, but I won't. It would be a waste of breath."

"You know that if you don't run and you don't have someone to fly your flag and tout your policies in this election, Ecclestone will win," Ron told him. "And he will undo so much of what we have done."

"Why do you think I've been struggling?" The Minister asked. "I am as aware of this as you are. And if it were not for the shadow of Duncan Ecclestone looming over us all I would likely have already decided to call it a day."

"So you're going to run?" Ron asked. "If you're the only one who can stop Ecclestone…" The Minister sighed.

"Give me time," the Minister said. "Just a little more time."

Ron turned away, trying to hold back his natural impulse to argue. They didn't have more time. But he understood. The Minister didn't have anything new he needed to consider. He had all the information he needed. And when pushed for an answer in front of all those reporters he'd give one, and it would be a surprise to him as much as any of them.

Ron rose to his feet.

"If you make up your mind," he said roughly, "Dennis is working on some statements. One if you decide to run, one if you don't. Just let us know."

"I will," the Minister nodded and he watched as Ron hesitantly turned and walked out the door.

The office became silent but for the steady ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Minister." Blaise was stood in the doorway, some papers in his hands. "I've got some projections from you economic advisors."

"Ah, thank you," the Minister said softly, accepting them as Blaise walked over to his desk and handed them over. Blaise turned to leave.

"Blaise," the Minister said suddenly, turning away from the papers to look up at his aide. "You undoubtedly must be aware of what's going on, vis-a-vis running for reelection." Blaise nodded. "What is your take?"

"Sir?" Blaise asked.

"Do you think I should run?" He asked. "I have been thinking on the matter for quite some time and yet I have failed to come to a decision. Your input would be most valued."

Blaise took a moment to think.

"I think you need to do what you want to do, Minister," he told him. "If you want to run then you should. But if you don't, if it's too much, then it is not a bad thing to say so."

"You think," the Minister murmured.

"You're not responsible for this country any more than your four year tenure commands," said Blaise. "If you choose to serve for four more years then you can. But it is not your responsibility to ensure the future of this nation beyond what you do while you're in office. The next Minister will always come, whether it is in this election or the next one, and it will be their job to run the country, like it is yours now. You have no responsibility to run again. So if you don't want to, then don't."

"And leave the country in the hands of Duncan Ecclestone," the Minister said sadly.

"If that's the best that the country can come up with, then yes," Blaise told him. "If you don't want to run again then it is time for somebody else to take up the responsibility. And whoever that person is it's out of your hands. You've done your part."

"I have, have I?" the Minister whispered.

"Unless you wish to do more," Blaise told him. "Yes. You don't owe anyone anything."

"Not entirely true," the Minister murmured. He glanced up at Blaise. "Thank you, Blaise. You've given me a lot to think about." Blaise nodded and silently exited the room.

* * *

"Monitoring of our experiments shouldn't be particularly difficult," Donny Key announced as the meeting in Meeting Room 1 ticked into another hour. "We have procedures built in specifically to guard against mistakes and misconduct as part of our identity. I imagine that Ministry oversight would be able to work in tangent with these measures."

"That seems like a cheap way of getting around our oversight," Amos muttered darkly. "By drawing our officials into the fold you have the ability to integrate them into your company, rather than what it should be, integration with the Ministry."

"We can find other ways," Tobias Pearson said hastily, stepping in as his colleague looked rather taken aback. "The suggestion was only meant as a way of describing how ready we are as a group to be overseen by an outward entity. We have no intention of deceiving anyone, particularly the Ministry."

"Of course," Amos muttered sarcastically. Harry turned his attention away from him with a grimace.

"We're not suggesting we believe there to be any nefarious motives from you, not at all," Harry promised. "We just want to be certain of the independence of those overseeing your work. They will need to be protected from potential influence by your researchers, we can't just take for granted that everyone involved with this project will have the integrity not to abuse this opportunity."

"We understand, and that is the basis of our own procedures on the matter," Key interjected. "We specifically have oversight within the group to ensure no misconduct in our research."

"But can we trust you with such oversight?" Amos pressed.

"You can trust your own oversight that will potentially follow a similar pattern to what we already have set up," Key announced, frustrated. "We have procedures for this which we can use as a basis for how the Ministry can oversee our work."

Amos let out a disbelieving noise, leaning back in his chair with a scowl, his arms crossed belligerently across his chest.

Harry had enough.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said, standing up and drawing looks from everyone in the room. "I have something I have to check on. Amos, could you join me outside?" He gestured with his head, fixing Amos with a firm look.

After a long staring match Amos eventually rose to his feet. The two of them exited the meeting room, walking a short distance away from the door to a quiet spot further down the corridor, before Harry turned to him.

"What is wrong with you?" He asked, his frustration bursting through in his voice. "What are you playing at in there?"

"I'm challenging them," Amos said shortly. "Someone needs to be tough with them and that someone clearly isn't going to be you." Harry shook his head.

"We don't need to be tough with them, actually," he pointed out, annoyed. "They have been nothing but open to our suggestions. They have accepted nearly everything we have put forward, they clearly understand that they can't do this without us being involved."

"And is that not suspicious to you?" Amos barked. "That they are so eager for our oversight."

"They are scientists, Amos," Harry exclaimed. "They don't have a political agenda. They just want to figure out if they can help people with mental illness, that's all. That's why they are being so accepting to our demands."

"And you believe any of this will work?" Amos spat. "You believe that any of this will make any difference? People won't suddenly sort themselves out, get back to the way normal people think, and putting them under the Imperius curse won't change that. People have no other choice but to face their problems head on and suffer, that is the only way to getting past them. No one can help, it has got to be them."

Harry fell silent at Amos's outburst, his anger and annoyance slipping away as he realised why the older man was acting this way. He sighed.

"Amos," he said softly. "Do you really believe that? Do you really believe that those with mental disabilities, with addiction problems, have to suffer? Amos, do you believe addicts deserve to suffer?"

Amos looked away gruffly.

"Don't know what you mean," he muttered, avoiding Harry's eye.

"Of course you do," Harry told him. "You're not an idiot. And guess what, I'm not one either. I know what you're feeling right now."

Amos scoffed. "Really?" He asked. "How could you? How could you possibly understand my point of view?"

"I understand far better than I think you're aware of," Harry told him softly. "I've been through things too. Not addiction the way you have but I do understand what it's like to have a problem that you believe is your fault. But it's not, Amos. I can assure you it's not."

Amos didn't say anything. He kept his gaze away from Harry, seeming to struggle with himself, and it pained Harry to realise just how much Amos's problems continued to haunt him.

"Amos, when was the last time you met your psychiatrist?" Harry asked. Amos flinched, telling Harry he was on the right track.

"A few months now," Amos muttered quietly. "Last time was just before the Wizengamot elections." Harry nodded.

"I imagine it being so busy, and you feeling better, prompted you to let it slide," Harry suggested. Amos didn't respond but Harry knew he was right.

"Maybe you should go back," he suggested. "Maybe you need that help again. It's not a bad thing to need it, Amos. You're in pain and that's not fair. And maybe someday we might be able to relieve that for you. But, in the meantime, talking to someone who knows what they're doing sounds like just the thing you need."

Harry glanced around, looking around at the generally quiet hallway they stood in, thinking back to the meeting he had left behind. He made a decision.

"Leave the BMRA to me," he told Amos. "Neville and I can handle it from here. You focus on getting in touch with your psychiatrist. And talk to people, okay. Trust that we want to hear your problems. It's not a burden to us to help you, but it is a burden to see you suffer in silence."

He placed a hand on Amos's shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze, and then, after a moment of silence, he released it. He wandered back up the corridor, reaching the door of Meeting Room 1, and glanced back to where Amos stood.

The older man met Harry's gaze slowly, and an understanding passed between them. Harry gave Amos a firm nod and he stepped into the room.

"Sorry about that," he said as he walked into the meeting room, the conversation coming to a halt as he stepped inside. "We just had to discuss something. I apologise for the delay."

"Not at all," Tobias said politely, though his expression was anxious as he glanced up at the door. "Is Mr Diggory not going to be joining us again?"

"Amos has decided to excuse himself from the meeting for now," Harry told them, sharing a glance with Neville as he did so. "As you are no doubt aware he's had his troubles in the past and he's found himself unable to look past them. He may rejoin us later once he's able to overcome his bias but in the meantime he's left it to us to continue the meeting."

The representatives of the BMRA looked relieved, clearly grateful that Amos was no longer in the room with them and that his aggression would not be a factor in their discussions. Beside Harry Neville gave him a nod, his expression understanding, and grateful.

Harry turned to the others. "So, let's crack on then."

* * *

"Blaise!" The Minister called, skimming through the papers on his desk before picking up his briefcase.

"Yes sir," Blaise responded as he stepped quickly into the room. The Minister glanced up.

"Is there anymore paperwork I have to get through today?" He asked, placing the files in his briefcase.

"No sir," Blaise replied. "That's everything for today. If you sign them before tomorrow morning I can get them filed."

"Thank you, Blaise," said the Minister, snapping the briefcase closed and standing up, swishing his cloak over his shoulders. "That's me for the day, I'm going home. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, sir," Blaise told him, and he stepped from the room.

"You going somewhere?" Amos stepped into the office, glancing at the door Blaise had just left through and at the Minister, all ready to go.

"I'm calling it an early night," the Minister told him with a sigh. "I'm not sure if you've heard yet but apparently Ecclestone is about to announce. It's time for me to make a decision, and I can't do it here."

"Okay then, I won't keep you," Amos told him. The Minister frowned.

"Is everything alright?" He questioned, eyeing up his old friend with a careful gaze. "You look a bit shaken. Has something happened?" Amos hesitated.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Nothing big for you to be concerned about."

"So not work," the Minister concluded, his brow furrowing. "Amos?"

"I had…" Amos sighed, "a bit of an altercation with Harry earlier, and… it opened my eyes somewhat to the way I've been behaving, most notably the way I've been treating myself."

"Amos?" The Minister questioned, laying down his briefcase. "Are you okay?" Amos grimaced.

"I have not seen my psychiatrist in several months," he said grimly, forcing the words out. "I was feeling better and we were working overtime during the transition period without Harry and Remus around and so I thought I'd be okay not seeing him."

"Oh, Amos," the Minister sighed.

"I was mistaken," Amos assured him. "It has been affecting me terribly today and Harry called me out on it. He insisted that I go back to my psychiatrist and start again. And I agree with him."

"I'm glad," the Minister said. "You know that we only want what's best for you." Amos nodded awkwardly.

"I just wanted to tell you what had happened," he said. "I've hidden from you in the past about this and… it has not been fair. You are my friend and I've been insulting you by refusing to be honest. So, there we go."

There was a pause.

"I'm glad you told me, Amos," the Minister said. "You know you can always talk to me. Anytime."

"I appreciate that, Minister, I really do," Amos told him. "But for now I think it's best I start with my psychiatrist. A lot of work has gone to waste. I need to do this right." He took a breath.

"Anyway, that is all I wished to say," he told him, seeming to relax slightly now that the words were out. "I'll see you tomorrow, Minister. Have a good night."

"You too, Amos," the Minister told him and, nodding, Amos left the room.

The Minister stood there, the silence in his office broken only by the steady ticking of the clock, and he closed his eyes. He let himself fall into the sea of emotions that were raging within him, drowning in them such that when he opened his eyes again his breathing was heavy and he gasped, his chest rising and falling harshly.

Looking around his office, questions running through his head, he took a breath and strode out the door.

* * *

"Hey, you ready to leave?" Ron asked, popping his head into Harry's office.

"Just about," Harry told him. He glanced up. "I'm just waiting on Dennis." Ron raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Bert Hornage."

"Ah," said Ron, a small smile crossing his face. "So is he retiring tomorrow?"

"Yep," said Harry, glancing past Ron and out into the communications centre. "He said he was just finishing it, and that was a while ago. I wonder what's taking him so long. Can you see him out there?"

Ron turned to glance outside but just as he did so Dennis appeared before them, a strained look on his face.

"Have you seen?" Dennis asked breathlessly. "Look." And he led them out of the office.

The TV was turned on and all eyes in the nearly empty communications centre were on it as a tall, grey haired man stood behind a podium, speaking out over a sea of faces that were gazing up at him expectantly.

"For a long time I believed my service to this country had come to an end," Duncan Ecclestone told the crowd. "But it appears that the country has not finished with me yet."

"He's doing it," Ron muttered as the crowd on the screen cheered. "He's actually doing it."

"A great nation such as this demands a leader willing to sacrifice everything, to give everything, to do everything," Ecclestone said. "A nation such as this is everything."

"Are you guys watching this?" Neville asked as he appeared, immediately falling silent as his gaze turned to the TV above them.

"We need to move," Harry muttered, turning his attention briefly from the screen as Ecclestone began to speak again. "Cho, call Daphne and see if the Minister is still in."

"I'm not sure he is," Neville told him, even as Cho picked up the phone and quickly dialled. "I know Amos has gone for the day. And Remus has bound to have left."

"Then we need to go find him," said Ron grimly, as Cho spoke softly on the phone. She looked up at them and shook her head.

"Guys, have you seen this?" Hermione gasped as she came running into view, panting heavily as she looked up at the TV screen they were all staring at.

"He's announcing," Harry murmured.

"There are reporters outside my office already," Hermione told them. "They're going to come looking after they realise I'm not there."

"We've got to move," Ron said. "We've got to talk to the Minister before we're cornered by the press. We're going to the Burrow, all of us, and we're having this conversation."

Harry nodded his head in agreement and Hermione and Neville shared anxious looks.

"I'll stay behind and finish things up," Dennis told them and with that they strode away, over to the elevators and down to the apparition points to meet with the Minister.

* * *

In the Burrow Arthur Weasley sat watching the TV with a heavy heart. Behind him he could hear Molly pottering around the kitchen, unaware of what was happening in the next room.

Duncan Ecclestone was getting to the end of his speech.

"I have been proud to serve this great nation and it would be a privilege and an honour to do so again," he told the cheering crowd. "That is why I am announcing my candidacy for Minister for Magic."

The cheers were raucous, the supporters in the room shouting so loud that anything Ecclestone would want to say would be drowned out. Instead he just stood there, up at the podium, smiling down at his supporters and waving.

Arthur turned the TV off. The room fell silent.

"Arthur?" Molly had walked into the room. "Arthur, is everything okay?" The Minister sighed heavily.

"Be prepared, my dear," he said softly. "I believe we are about to have a few guests." He turned to look at her, giving her a sad smile. "It's time."

The knock on the door came a few minutes later, probably due to the fact that the visitors were forced to walk from the Weasley property boundary, such was the level of security around the place, and Molly hurried to the door, pulling it open.

"Ron?" She questioned but Ron just murmured something to her in response, causing the redheaded woman to step aside as her son entered the building and walked into the living room, Harry, Hermione and Neville following behind him.

They stood in an arc around the Minister, all watching him expectantly, and the Minister let out a sigh.

"Please, sit down," he told them tiredly. They did, sitting awkwardly on the edge of their seats. In the doorway he glimpsed Molly standing there, looking worried.

"I'm sure you all saw Duncan Ecclestone's announcement speech," he said. They nodded. "And you are here to determine whether or not I am going to run, before the press begin asking in the morning."

"They've already started," said Harry. "Hermione's office is currently under siege from reporters. We had to get here as soon as possible."

"So as to avoid being questioned," the Minister acknowledged, "before you can give an answer." Harry nodded.

"Sir?" Neville asked nervously. "Have you decided?" The Minister turned to him.

"Yes," he said. His gaze ran over them all, watching as they reacted to his words. "Yes, I have come to my decision."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville waited silently for the Minister to continue. They barely breathed as they watched him take them all in, as his gaze slid across them and over to where his wife stood in the doorway.

"Duncan Ecclestone is the front runner for any race, even one in which I am included," the Minister told them. "I have grown weary of the job, tired of the strain it puts on those around me, but without a successor, someone to challenge Ecclestone and who can continue what we've started, I cannot in good faith drop out, and allow Ecclestone to go unchallenged."

"Unfortunately I have no other choice," the Minister continued. "I cannot run again. And so, that is my decision. I hope you can understand it, I sense that you do, and I am sorry that it has to be this way. But this term of office will be my only. And that's all I can say."

The room was dead silent. The four ministry workers sat with their heads bent, wondering just where they were to go to now. It seemed as though a death knell had wrung over their administration.

"Oh, Arthur!" Mrs Weasley gasped and she flung herself into her husbands arms, wrapping him in a bone crushing hug, tears in her eyes. "Thank you. Thank you."

The Minister patted her comfortingly on the back, even as he felt his feelings lighten, and he realised quite clearly in that moment that he had made the right choice. He'd done what he could, and he'd done it well, but now his family needed him back. Molly needed him back.

The staff slowly began to rise to their feet.

"We should get going," Harry told him, looking at him over Mrs Weasley's shoulder. "We'll have a press conference to announce your decision tomorrow. Dennis has been working on a response. We'll get it to you tomorrow morning."

The Minister nodded his head in thanks, still holding his greatly relieved wife in his arms, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville quietly exited the room.

* * *

The next morning the Ministry was filled with a nervous energy. Everyone knew that something was happening, and the more astute among them realised it was about the Minister running for reelection. But those in the know weren't saying.

They did spread the word to those who needed to know. Dennis, Lizzie, Cho and Colin were pulled into Ron's office to explain what had happened, Hermione had taken it upon herself to tell Demelza and Neville told Hannah.

Harry, meanwhile, went to the Minister's office.

"Good morning, sir," he said as he knocked on the door, stepping inside and approaching the desk.

"Good morning, Harry," the Minister replied. He sat at his desk, glancing at Harry's hands. "What have you got there for me?"

"Your speech," Harry told him, handing it over. "Dennis was working on it yesterday, I looked over it when I got here this morning. When Hermione starts her press conference she will hand straight over to you to make your statement."

"Thank you," the Minister told him. He let out a sigh.

"Are you disappointed?" He asked. "I can't imagine you were happy to hear that I'd decided not to run."

"No sir," said Harry truthfully. "We all wanted you to run. We were all there with you."

"You think I've made a mistake?"

Harry shook his head.

"You know what you need better than we do, sir," Harry told him. "If you believe you are not prepared to run then we accept that. We understand. So long as you are sure then we will continue to stand behind you, no matter what your decision is."

"Well, I am sure," the Minister told him. "I get more and more sure with every passing minute. I've been conflicted for so long but now, I am satisfied. I've made my decision." Harry nodded.

"We'll send for you when the press conference is due to start," he told the Minister and he backed out of the room.

The Minister sighed. He had meant what he'd said. He was certain that he was not prepared for another term in office, so certain that he did not worry about saying so to the public. But he couldn't help but feel for the people who had worked so hard to get him there, who continued to put aside everything else to make his administration a success, who he had essentially abandoned to an uncertain future.

The door connecting the Minister's office to the Chief of Staff's opened.

"Amos," the Minister greeted, a small smile on his face. "I was wondering when I would be seeing you."

"Neville just finished telling me what happened last night," Amos informed him, his expression stiff. "Is it true?" The Minister nodded.

Amos looked away.

"I can't believe this," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you would do this."

"Not run?" The Minister questioned.

"Because of me," Amos pointed out. "That's why you're not running. That's why you've come to this decision. If I had not spoken to you that night…"

"It would have made very little difference to my decision," the Minister assured him. "I didn't decide not to run because of you, Amos. You are the reason I ran in the first place. You took an unambitious, family guy and drove him to the highest position in the country. Regardless of what you said yesterday I knew you wouldn't be up for doing it again. I wouldn't want you to. It is time I returned to where I belong."

"And what of the Ministry?" Amos asked. "What happens once you've left?"

"Who knows," said the Minister simply. "I won't pretend to be able to predict the future. But it is time for me to step aside and let someone else carry the burden." He eyed his friend softly. "And time for you to do the same."

Amos sucked in a breath. "I won't abandon this Ministry…"

"I would not expect you to," the Minister assured him. "But in about a year and a half I will be leaving this office behind, and I would very much like it if you could come with me."

Blaise appeared in the doorway, catching the Minister's attention.

"It is time for me to leave," he announced, rising to his feet and watching Amos's eyes follow him. "We have had some brilliant times, old friends, but those are coming to an end. And so, for our last hurrah, let's make these last few months the best we can."

The Minister strode from his office, leaving Amos contemplating his words in his wake, and as Blaise fell into step behind him he made his way towards the press briefing room.

Outside the door Hermione was waiting for him.

"Ready?" She asked anxiously. The Minister nodded. "Good luck, sir."

She stepped inside, striding briskly towards the podium, and quietly the Minister followed behind her, stepping into the shadows and watching as she stood before the press.

"I know what you are all going to be wondering this morning," she told the assorted reporters in front of her. "So today I won't be the one speaking to you. Please stand for the Minister for Magic."

As one the reporters hurried to rise to their feet, only just noticing the Minister's presence as he walked into the light, stepping up to the podium. He nodded to Hermione, throwing her an encouragingly look as she watched him nervously, and, placing his speech on the podium before him, he looked out over the reporters.

"Nearly three years ago I had the great pleasure of being voted in to the office of Minister for Magic," he spoke, the standing reporters silent before him. "It was an experience beyond humbling and I could not be more grateful for the people who got me there, both among my staff and the public at large. Now another election looms in the distance and I know many of you out there will be hoping to be able to cast your vote for me again. To you, I can only say, I'm sorry."

He paused, taking a deep breath, before he looked over to the back of the room.

The senior staff stood there, watching him speak with blank faces. Harry, Ron, Neville, Amos, Remus, and Dennis, with Hermione standing to his side and Blaise and Demelza fading into the background. How he would miss these people when he was gone.

"When the election comes around again in just over a year's time my name will not be on the ballot," he continued, his voice strong despite the emotion that welled up inside him. "I will be stepping down when my term is complete to dedicate myself fully as a husband and father, to the wife and children that have been so good to me, and who have gladly suffered so I could continue working for this great nation. To them I say thank you. And to the rest of this country it has been an honour and a privilege being your Minister."

* * *

Harry sighed as he sat by his desk, not working but not wanting to go home either. It had been a truly historic day and Harry could not help but feel that if he were to leave then the events of the day would be set in stone. Deep down he held out hope that the Minister would change his mind and run, but everything else told him that it was over. Minister Weasley's reign was on a timer.

Everything was about to change.

His door opened, swinging slowly, and a dark shape came inside. His features weren't clear, the lights in the communications centre had already been extinguished, but Harry hadn't lived in the same dorm as him for seven years for nothing.

"Pull up a chair," he said, gently pushing one out with his foot as he bent to the mini-fridge he kept by his desk, pulling out a couple of beers and placing them on his desk.

Ron accepted the seat, using his wand to snap off the caps of the two bottles and taking a long swig from his as he settled down.

"Tough day, eh," Harry muttered, taking a drink himself and feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat.

"Tell me about it," Ron murmured quietly. He fell silent again.

Harry glanced into the communications centre beyond. "Is everyone gone?" Ron nodded.

"It's late," he told him. "Usually even we'd be out of here by this time."

"I guess we're here for the same reason, right?" said Harry, taking another sip.

"Thinking about the future?" said Ron. Harry nodded.

"I really don't know what will happen," Harry said with a soft sigh. "But I can't get away from the idea that Ecclestone's won this. I mean, I know we're far away but I can't think of anyone, other than the Minister, who could match him."

"I suppose we're out of a job," he continued, running a hand through his hair. "After the Minister's term is over we're going to have to figure out what to do. I've been thinking about returning to Liverpool politics. I don't know what role yet but I suppose I've got the sort of resume now that I can just pick and choose." Harry glanced over.

"What are you thinking?" He asked. "Going to take up that Cannons offer?" Ron shook his head. "Then what?"

Ron took a moment to speak.

"I want to stay in politics," he said softly. "And I want to work here, in this Ministry."

"We can't though," Harry pointed out. "Unless you decide to join Ecclestone."

"Or I find someone who can beat him," Ron told him. "If I can find someone with the sort of nationwide name recognition, someone who can appeal to the demographics Ecclestone does not, the young, the blue collar workers, someone who has ties to places where these sorts of people are in abundance, where we can form a base with which we can build from to properly challenge Ecclestone's position. And most importantly they would need to be someone who would carry on this Ministry's work." He looked at Harry.

Harry met his gaze. His eyes widened.

"No way," he muttered, shaking his head. "You can't be serious. You can't possibly be suggesting…"

"That you run," Ron confirmed, leaning forward in his seat, beer forgotten. "Of course that's what I'm suggesting. You are young, you are capable, you are attractive, and you can connect to people. You know this administration inside out, many of our policies are your policies. You are tied to this administration so firmly that if you run you'll be seen as its natural successor. You have worked alongside the Minister for four years, you are married to the Minister's daughter, you are a family man that people can relate to. Why shouldn't you run?"

"Ron," Harry shook his head. "Ron, I'm twenty-nine years old. That's way too young to be Minister for Magic. I'd be the youngest by a long shot, and there's a reason people my age don't get elected."

"Yeah, sure, that's an issue," Ron agreed. "But who else is going to run? Amos? Remus? They both have baggage, you know they'd never make it. If I could choose someone older with more experience then I would but I have been thinking about this all day, ever since last night really, and I could think of no one better than you to take over after dad leaves. You're going to be Minister one day, Harry, why not let it be today."

Silence fell between them. They gazed at each other, neither willing to admit that the other might be right.

Harry rubbed his face.

"Ron, look, I can't," he began, shaking his head repeatedly. "This is very sudden and I can't…"

"Don't then," Ron told him. "Don't tell me your answer now. But think about it. Really think about it. Because if you do I think you'll see where I'm coming from. If you do I think you'll run." Ron stood up.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he told him and he left the room, leaving Harry alone.

Harry sighed heavily. What was Ron thinking? He couldn't possibly run for Minister. The idea was ludicrous.

He glanced at his watch, recognising it was beyond late, and with a heavy heart he rose to his feet. Ginny was probably waiting for him back home, wondering why he was so late, or rather knowing exactly why he was so late and waiting anyway. He left his office, closing and locking the door behind him, and a few minutes later he had left the Ministry behind and was unlocking his front door.

The flat was dark and silent as Harry entered, surprising him as he divested himself of his cloak and stepped inside. Walking into the living room, vaguely planning on collapsing into the sofa and staying there, he noticed a small note sitting on the coffee table. He picked it up and read it, slowly lowering himself into a seat.

Ginny was at her parents' house, so the note said. Spending time with her mum in wake of the news of the Minister not running again. Of course she'd been aware it was about to happen, Harry had told her when he'd got home the night before, but he imagined it was probably the sort of big thing that family should be there for.

He placed the note down, wondering just how long it had been sitting there, before he heard the keys jangle in the door.

"Harry?" Ginny asked as she stepped inside. "Are you in?"

"I'm here," Harry told her and she walked into view, dropping her coat on the back of one of the sofas as she went. Smiling as she saw him she settled herself down in the seat next to him.

"I got your note," he told her, leaning back on the sofa and allowing Ginny to lean her head on his shoulder. "How was it?"

"Mum is over the moon," Ginny told him, as Harry had expected. "She's never liked dad working so much, even when he was just Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. I haven't seen her so happy since the wedding."

"And how's your dad?" Harry asked. "I spoke to him earlier, but that was before his speech."

"He seemed happy," Ginny told him. "I don't think he's regretting it at all." She turned to look at him. "He is sorry for you guys though."

Harry swallowed. His conversation with Ron rose to the surface once more and he felt himself tense. Ron had told him to think about it, and that had been all Harry had been able to do since, but he knew that no matter how much time he spent considering the matter he had to talk about it with Ginny.

"Ron came to me with a proposition today," Harry told her, Ginny already sensing something was up as she watched him. "It was just before I left, just twenty, thirty minutes ago, maybe. And I honestly don't know what to say."

"What is it?" Ginny asked softly. Harry swallowed.

"Ron told me I should run for Minister," he told her.

Ginny was silent as he said this. Harry had half expected laughter, but she hadn't found the suggestion ridiculous.

"Wow," she muttered, looking down softly as if to take it all in. "That's… something." She looked up at him. "Are you considering it?"

"Sort of," said Harry. "Ron asked me to think on it so I guess I am it's just… there are loads of reasons why I would be a bad fit for Minister and I know Ron's got arguments against them all, but…" He trailed off.

"You don't believe you can do it," Ginny concluded. Harry looked at her.

"Of course not," he told her, laughing slightly at the thought. "I'm twenty-nine, I've never been elected to anything, apart from most likely to become a professional quidditch player in the Hogwarts yearbook. How could I possibly do this job?"

"Neither of those things are reasons you can't do the job," Ginny reminded him. "Just reasons you think people might not want to vote for you." Harry looked at her.

"You think I can do this?" He asked.

"I know you can," Ginny told him. "Getting elected, though. Well, I don't know much about it, but Ron does. If he thinks you've got a chance then you probably do."

Harry considered her.

"Ginny," he said softly. "It almost sounds like you want me to run." Ginny looked at him.

"Is that such a surprise?" She asked. "Are you really so shocked that I would think the man I chose to marry capable of being Minister for Magic?"

"It's not just about that, though, is it?" Harry asked. "Just look at your mother. Look how happy she is now that your dad is not going to be running again. I just can't help but think about all that she's been going through and wonder how I could possibly put you through the same thing."

"But we both know it's going to happen," Ginny told him. Harry stared at her. "You are an incredible man, Harry. You are driven, you are principled, you are smart and talented, everything that you are leads to the fact that you have the world at your feet. You can do anything, you could be anything. And instead of pursuing that promising quidditch career or being a world renowned duellist, or joining the aurors, you chose politics over everything. One day you are going to be Minister for Magic. I have always known that. It is only up to you whether that day comes a year and a half from now, or not."

Harry stared into her eyes, seeing her passion and her drive, and above all her sheer outright honesty. She believed in him to the ends of the earth.

"You think I should run," he said softly.

"I think you should do what you want to do," Ginny told him. "But know that it will end the same way, with you in the Minister's office. And I'll be right behind you every step of the way."

Harry let out a soft breath.

"What did I do to deserve a wife like you?" He murmured, blown away as he so often was by her love and trust.

A beautiful smile spread across Ginny's lips.

"You gave me your love and affection and everything I could possibly have ever wanted," she told him. "You are my whole world, what more could I ask for."

"You know I won't run if you don't want me to," he told her seriously. "I know how hard this will be. And I know you will be there with me every step of the way but you don't have to. You don't have to put yourself through that for me. The Ministry is not that important."

"But it really is," Ginny murmured. "The Ministry needs you, it would be selfish to deny them. And I know it will be difficult at times but every time it seems to get too hard I'll be able to think of how proud I am of you. As much as I wish we could fly away to some deserted island and just stay there together, never to be parted, I know the world will not let us. So let's change that world. And once your time in office is over, when you're ready to pass it on to the next person in line, you'll be able to come back to me and we can have that happily every after."

* * *

It was little more than an hour since Harry had left the Ministry that he found himself back there again. He was sitting behind his desk, waiting for the others to arrive, having made a decision that would not only change his life, but may very well change the world.

Ron appeared in the doorway, pale-faced as he looked down on him.

"You've thought about it?" He gasped. "And?" Harry waved him away. They were waiting on one other.

A few minutes later Hermione stepped into the room, looking confused.

"Harry, what's going on?" She asked, looking between him and Ron as though realising she was missing something. "Your message was incredibly cryptic."

"Don't worry, I'll explain," Harry told her. He gestured to the seats before his desk. "Sit down."

Hermione did so, still completely confused as she looked between them, while Ron lowered himself slowly into his chair, not once taking his eyes off Harry.

"Well then," said Harry, taking a breath. "Thank you for being here. I'm sorry to call you up so late but this is important."

"Of course," said Hermione. Ron stayed silent.

Harry turned to the Press Secretary.

"Earlier, just an hour ago, in fact, Ron came to me with a proposition," Harry explained to her, practically feeling Ron's impatience as he sat stock still. "We were talking about the election and Ron suggested a candidate that could take on Duncan Ecclestone. Me." Hermione's eyes widened.

"You?" She gasped. "Ron suggested that. Wait, what did you say? Are you going to do it?"

"I didn't say anything," Harry told her. "Ron told me to take my time and think about it. Well, I've done that. I went home and I spoke to Ginny. And I came to a decision." He took a breath.

"Well," Ron snapped impatiently, his gaze burning a hole in Harry's head.

Harry let out a sigh.

"Okay," he said softly. Ron and Hermione's eyes widened. "I'm in," he said, and he paused, "if you're in with me."

There was silence in the office. The three old friends sat together, with everything to say but nothing needing to be said.

"Harry," Hermione breathed.

"The two of you are my best friends," he said, looking across the desk at the both of them. "Those years when we had drifted apart were terrible now that I can remember what it is like to be together. We came together on the project to get the Minister elected and if I'm going to follow in his footsteps then I'm going to need the two of you by my side."

"We'd have to leave our jobs here," Hermione noted, turning to Ron.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "That will make things more difficult for the Ministry but I can't do this without you. If I go you go." He rose to his feet. "So what do you say?"

Hermione glanced at Ron again, trying to read his expression, before turning back to Harry.

"If you want to do this…" she said hesitantly. Then she rose to her feet. "Then I'm there with you all the way. I can't let you do this alone. We're like the musketeers; one for all and all for one."

Harry smiled. "Ron?"

Ron stood up.

"Do you even need to ask?" He said, giving Harry a grin as he cuffed him on the arm. "No way in hell I was letting you do this alone."

Harry grinned.

"Well then," he said. "Here we go."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed please leave a Review and follow me on Twitter for updates.

Until next time.


	18. Announcement

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

* * *

"My, don't we look a sorry lot," the Minister pronounced, looking around at what was left of his senior staff. Amos, Remus, Neville and Dennis gathered before him, the room looking an awful lot more empty than it usually did. "Cheer up. They won't be gone forever."

"But then we'll be," Neville reminded him. The Minister chuckled.

"Don't be such a miser," he chortled. "Just because we've lost some of our staff to the campaign doesn't mean we won't be able to get by. Now, why don't we get things started. Where's Demelza? I expected her to be here."

"She's probably caught up with the press," Dennis told him. "She's swamped now that Hermione is gone. She's never had to step into the role before." The Minister looked thoughtful.

"Well then, let's keep an eye out for her," he suggested. "Help her through this difficult period."

"Yes sir," intoned the staff. The Minister nodded.

"Is there anything else anyone wants to bring to attention about our current staff shortage?" The Minister asked. "If not, let's get down to the business of the day." He clapped his hands together. "Amos?"

"The BMRA are coming in again to speak with us," Amos announced. "Since Harry is gone I'll be rejoining Neville in those meetings."

"You're sure you're comfortable with that?" The Minister asked.

"I am," said Amos. "And with Neville in the room with me I'll have someone to be on the lookout if things start to deteriorate."

"Yes sir," Neville assured as the Minister turned his gaze on him. The Minister nodded.

"What else do we have on the agenda?" He asked. "Dennis, you'll have your work cut out, I assume?" Dennis nodded.

"Amos and Neville are going to take the bulk of Harry's work off my plate for the time being," he told him. "Over time I should start to be able to take on more responsibility for the Communications Director position."

"By the way, congratulations on the promotion," said the Minister.

"Thank you," said Dennis.

The Minister leaned back against his desk. His eyes swept over them.

"This isn't going to be the easiest of times," he told them. "You're going to have to work hard, harder than anyone really should, until we can stabilise after the loss of such influential staff members. I know it is going to be tough, but I also know that I could not have a better staff ready to take up the challenge."

He nodded to them and they were dismissed, Dennis and Neville walking out together as Amos departed for his office.

Remus stayed behind.

"Yes Remus," said the Minister, halting as he moved to return to his seat. "What can I do for you?" Remus stepped forward.

"I just thought I should let you know I will be stopping by Harry's campaign later today," he said. "He's announcing his candidacy tonight and I thought it'd be a good idea to visit before then to give my support."

"Good call," the Minister agreed. "But we do need to be wary. I understand your relationship with Harry will be more than enough justification but we've got to be careful with how the Ministry interacts with Harry's campaign. We can't show any bias, especially given just how intertwined we already are."

"I understand," Remus told him. "And I have no interest in delegitimising this election. If Harry wins it can't be under any circumstances other than himself proving he is capable. If we are seen to be giving him a helping hand there'll be an outcry, and it'll delegitimise his victory."

"Still, it's a hard line to walk," Remus continued. "He worked at the Ministry and was instrumental in your campaign, not to mention that he's got Ron and Hermione who are just as connected, Ron more so. He's married to your daughter, he's like a son to me, godfather to my son, mentor to Dennis… There's really very little to be done to convince anyone that the campaign and the Ministry are not one and the same."

"Which is why we have to keep quiet," the Minister warned. "We cannot communicate at all, except for official business. We've got to pretend he's any other candidate, even though he's not. It will not be easy, but it is necessary." The Minister let out a soft sigh.

"Where is he announcing?" He asked, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him.

"A hotel in Liverpool," Remus told him. "It was the venue for the first major speech Harry ever wrote, for then City Council Candidate Darrel Pierce. It was the start of Harry's political career, the career that led him to where he is now."

The Minister gave a nod.

"Tell him good luck from me," he murmured. "He's got a tough road ahead. I can only hope he comes out victorious."

Remus let out a smile.

"I will sir," he told him. He began to walk from the room. "I'll come back here after to tell you how it went."

"I look forward to it," said the Minister and he waved Remus off, his Head of the Muggle Liaison Office disappearing from view.

* * *

Neville strode briskly through the corridors, at least a dozen things on his mind as he made a beeline for the Press Secretary's office. The assistant's post was empty so Neville strode right in, finding Demelza sitting behind Hermione's old desk, scribbling frantically.

"Demelza," Neville spoke. Demelza jumped.

"Neville," she said, her voice coming out in a squeak before she was able to recover. "Neville, hi. Sorry, I didn't see you there. What can I do for you?" She looked rather uncomfortable as she looked up at him, looking oddly out of place sitting behind the desk. To the both of them this was still Hermione's office.

"Is everything alright?" Neville asked, pushing past the weirdness of the situation. "You're not having any trouble?"

"No," Demelza squeaked, unconvincingly.

"You missed the senior staff meeting," Neville reminded her. Demelza's eyes widened.

"No," she gasped, looking horrified. "I did. I can't believe it, I just forgot. Oh no." She buried her head in her hands and slammed it against the desk.

Neville looked away awkwardly, giving her time to sort herself out. Eventually Demelza peeked through her fingers to look up at him.

"How bad was it?" She questioned fearfully. "What did I miss?"

"You didn't miss anything," Neville tried to assure her. "It was just a bit of a meeting to gather ourselves after Harry and the others left. The Minister wanted to check that everyone was doing okay and to make sure we knew that he has our backs. It was fine."

"What did he say when he realised I wasn't there?" Demelza asked fearfully. "Did he even notice?"

"He did," Neville said cautiously. "But he's not judging you. Dennis told him how swamped you've been." In a moment Demelza's expression switched from despair to frustration.

"It's those damn reporters," Demelza cursed viciously. "They've been on my case all morning. They know something's up. I've tried to just blow it over and just tell them I'm filling in but they know Harry and Ron aren't here either, they're sniffing for blood."

"Why don't I have a word with them," Neville suggested. "I'll get them to lay off, point out that they're not going to get anywhere by having a go at you." Demelza looked up at him gratefully.

"Thank you, Neville, you're a godsend," she told him, causing Neville to flush in embarrassment. "Seriously, thank you. I know I've done everything to learn how to do this job but without Hermione it just seems like so much more than it actually is. Having you around to help is just brilliant."

"Don't worry about it," Neville assured her. "I'm happy to help, just let me know when you need anything. It's your first day, you're not supposed to be able to know everything." He glanced out the door.

"I'll go talk to the reporters," he told her. "Just remember we're meeting the Minister at one o'clock."

"One o'clock," Demelza repeated, looking faint.

"I'll come round to collect you before we go," Neville told her. And he left the office, Demelza thanking him profusely as he went.

With the task of scolding the reporters firmly in mind he made his way towards the press offices, thinking of how he should do this. Obviously outwardly scolding them wouldn't help, if anything it would add fuel to the fire. He would be better off talking to Michael, get him to spread the word.

The only problem was when he reached the press office Michael was nowhere in sight. Instead sitting at his desk was a blonde haired woman with a quill tucked behind her ear, sticking her tongue out as she wrote intently with a second quill in her hand.

"Excuse me," Neville said, approaching. The woman looked up. "Who are you? Where's Michael?"

"Oh, you haven't heard," the woman smiled. "Michael has been reassigned. Yeah, he's going to be covering the election now, leaving me to cover the Ministry beat." She held out a hand. "The name's Smart. Eliza Smart."

"Hi, Eliza," Neville said uncertainly. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Oh, you think I don't know you," Eliza laughed. "I'd be kind of bad at my job if I didn't do my homework. But I'm not, I'm actually pretty good, so while I've got you here would you like to comment on the apparently missing Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger." She looked at him pointedly, notebook in hand.

"No comment," Neville told her. "I didn't come here to talk about any story, I came here to tell the reporters to lay off Demelza."

"Why?" Eliza asked curiously. "Why should we lay off Ms Robins?"

"Because it's the decent thing to do," Neville reminded her. "Look, this is the first time Demelza has had to stand in for Hermione for any prolonged period of time. Stop badgering her so much."

"Maybe we could if you told us where Hermione Granger is," Eliza told him. "If you want to protect her so much then why don't you answer our questions?"

"Neville." Neville and Eliza looked up to find Amos standing in the corridor outside. He looked at Neville and jerked his head, indicating for Neville to join him, and Neville did, leaving Eliza Smart at her desk without another word.

"Neville, what is going on?" Amos asked as the two of them strode through the corridors, speaking in a low tone to avoid being overheard.

"I was trying to get the reporters to back off a bit and give Demelza some space," Neville said defensively. "They are treating her very unfairly."

"And?" Amos asked.

"I was going to talk to Michael about it, to be discrete," Neville told him. "But Michael's been reassigned for the election. We're stuck with Eliza Smart now, which means we'll have to find someone else to talk to. Sophie, I suppose."

"Don't," Amos warned him.

"But Amos," Neville protested. Amos silenced him with a look.

"What I saw in there was not good," Amos informed him. "I understand what you were trying to do but the fact that Michael has been replaced means it's only caused more damage. We've got to give up on this, anything else we say will only inflame the situation."

Neville clenched his jaw in annoyance.

"Fine," he admitted, understanding where Amos was coming from. "But we have to be on the lookout, for Demelza's sake. This is harder on her than it is on anyone else."

"It'll only be for today," Amos informed him. "Tell her that. Tell her that tomorrow everything will be clearer."

"Harry's announcing?" Neville concluded. Amos nodded.

"I heard it from Remus," Amos told him. "It's tonight."

"Should we really be knowing that?" Neville asked uncertainly. "We shouldn't be getting involved."

"You're right, we shouldn't," Amos agreed. "So we're not. Remus has a special relationship with Harry, he's not going to cut ties. The rest of us, meanwhile, have to continue on as though the election is not happening."

"Right," Neville agreed. He prepared to split up. "You prepared for the BMRA?"

"I've been preparing with Harry's notes," Amos told him. "I'll see you in half an hour." And they went their separate ways.

Within a minute Neville found himself passing through the communications centre.

"Oof, sorry Neville," Dennis said apologetically as he nearly ran into him, a pile of files in his arms as Lizzie followed behind him, carrying even more files herself. "Didn't see you there."

"Are you alright?" Neville wondered, looking over Dennis's slightly panicked features. Dennis let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, yeah," he told him unconvincingly. "Yeah, I just have some meetings with some Warlocks of the Wizengamot about certainly policy initiatives they've been working with us on… which means I have to read up on all of them so I know what the hell I'm talking about."

"Do you need any help?" Neville asked. The strain on Dennis's face made it clear he wished he could accept it.

"Sorry, this is the sort of thing I need to do myself," he said. "Memorising, you know. Can't outsource it." At his desk Colin placed down his phone.

"Warlock Brownlow will be here in fifteen minutes," Colin informed them. Dennis looked like he was about to cry.

"Come on, let's get into your office and figure this out," Lizzie encouraged, guiding him gently towards the, until recently Deputy, Communications Director's office and quickly closing the door behind her.

Colin turned to Neville.

"It's been like this ever since they left," he told him. "There used to be six of us here, now there are only three. And when I'm the most senior official you know you've got a problem."

Neville looked worried.

"Do you think he'll manage it?" He asked, gazing at Dennis's closed office door.

"Dennis?" Colin asked. "Yeah, he managed the transition and that was actually more work than this. Problem is that back then Ron was helping him out, keeping stuff off his desk when possible, and Dennis knew that he was only doing this temporarily, working until Harry got back. Now there's no light at the end of the tunnel and he's panicking." Colin grimaced.

"What I'm worried about is really Lizzie," he opined. Neville turned to him.

"How come?" He asked.

"She's doing her best," Colin assured him. "And she's doing a good job of it too. But with Harry and Ron gone the work of us assistants has gone through the roof. Lizzie's never had to deal with this before." Colin glanced despairingly at Cho's empty desk. "Neither of us has."

If anyone had thought the Ministry would be able to hit the ground running after losing so many staff members then they had another thing coming.

* * *

Cho listened carefully as the man in front of her spoke, taking in his concerns as she consulted the clipboard in her arms.

"They say they won't be able to broadcast us at nine?" She said, frowning.

"Their earliest slot is nine thirty," Seamus told her, fresh from his talks with the TV station. "They've got their news segment just before that and they are not willing to cut into that to broadcast Harry's speech."

"I don't see any reason we can't delay to half nine," Cho commented. "Of course we'll have to make sure everyone is aware of the change but I don't see much of a problem."

"The reporters are due to arrive for a nine o'clock start," Seamus reminded her.

"So they are," Cho acknowledged. "We'll have to get word out to them about the change of schedule. I assume Hermione is in charge of that?" Seamus nodded. "I'll let her know of the change."

"Thanks," said Seamus, glancing around the crowded room they were talking in. "I'll let the TV station know we're accepting." He glanced at Cho. "You look good, by the way."

"You're dating my friend," Cho reminded him calmly. Seamus grinned.

"We have had talks about making it an open relationship," he told her. Cho fixed him with a deadpan stare.

"Not in a million years," she told him firmly. Seamus just grinned. He hadn't exactly got his hopes up.

"See you around," he called and he strode off into the crowd. Adjusting her clipboard Cho began her search for Hermione.

"Cho, was that Seamus I saw you talking to?" Ron wondered as he appeared as if by magic by her side, matching her stride. "Has he booked our slot with the TV guys?"

"Sort of," Cho explained, taking his sudden appearance in stride. "The station refused to do nine because it cut into their news broadcast but they were open to nine thirty. It's not a huge difference and I just need to get out word of the time change, specifically to Hermione for the reporters. Seamus has just gone to confirm the deal."

"Great," said Ron, rubbing his hands together nervously. "Hey, you said we'd be on after the news?" He asked. Cho nodded. Ron looked thoughtful.

"I'm going to see if I can catch up with Seamus, or if not with Dean," he announced as he prepared to move off into the crowd. "If we can get the news station to plug our speech that would be huge for drawing attention to it." And he rushed off, quickly disappearing into the crowd as Cho continued her search for Hermione.

She came across someone else instead.

"Remus!" She cried, giving the older man a beaming smile as he seemed to appear before her in the crowd. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Harry before the big night," Remus told her, looking around the room and looking a tad overwhelmed by all the people milling about. "Where did all these people come from?"

"We've been recruiting," Cho told him, somewhat needlessly. "Most of these people are low level, mainly useful for filing things and making calls and that sort. We've got some construction workers here, they're setting up the stage, and then we'll have the people setting up the sound system. That's all organised by Dean Thomas."

"I've heard of him," Remus commented.

"Other than that we've got mostly hotel staff," Cho finished.

"Where's Harry?" Remus wondered.

"He's in his room upstairs," Cho informed him. "Come on, I'll show you the way." The two of them strode out of the ballroom and began the journey up the stairs of the lavish hotel they were staying in.

As they walked along the thickly carpeted corridors Remus turned to her.

"How are you doing?" He asked. "You certainly seem busy."

"Very busy," Cho agreed with a little laugh. "It has been non-stop action since Harry decided to run. I've been organising it mostly, as in I'm the point person for the various members of the campaign to communicate what is happening to each other. In some ways it's not that different to what I normally do, except with a lot more people I've never met before." She turned to Remus. "How's the Ministry?"

"Busy," Remus told her and they chuckled. "It has not gone unnoticed that three senior staff members have disappeared, not by the press or by those still working there. Demelza's having a hard time of it as acting Press Secretary and the communications office is barebones." Cho winced.

"I do feel bad about not being there," she admitted softly. "It seems like an awful lot to dump on Lizzie's shoulders considering how little experience she has."

"It's not been easy for Colin either," Remus told her.

"Colin can manage," Cho assured him. "He knows what he's doing."

"That's not what I meant," Remus told her. They came to a stop. "Colin really misses you."

Cho met Remus's gaze with a sad, slightly forced smile. She took a key card out of her pocket and used it on the door beside her.

"We're here."

Inside the room stood Harry, talking animatedly with Hermione who sat on the magnificent kingsized bed. Both of them turned when they heard the door open.

"Remus!" Harry called, greeting the older man with a hug as he stepped inside, Cho closing the door discretely behind them. "You're here. I'm so glad you made it."

"Of course I did," Remus told him. "I had to wish you good luck before you delivered your speech. Although unfortunately I cannot stay to hear it."

"You're sure?" Harry asked but he knew the answer.

"I'll watch it on TV," Remus promised. "Assuming it is on TV."

"That's the plan," said Harry. He turned to Cho. "Do you have something to report on that matter?"

"We're actually broadcasting on Wizarding News Network, WNN," Cho informed him. "They have their own news program at nine so we've decided to push the speech back to nine thirty, with Ron trying to convince them to give a plug for the speech at the end of the news."

"That would be useful," Hermione commented.

"I also have news from Ginny," Cho continued, catching Harry's attention. "She says she'll be here at eight o'clock at the latest."

"Thanks Cho," said Harry. "Is there anything else?"

"Just for Hermione," Cho told him.

"We'll discuss that as we go," Hermione suggested, standing up and walking towards the door. "Leave these two alone before Remus has to leave again."

She and Cho left the room, leaving Harry and Remus alone together.

"So," said Remus, turning to get a good look at Harry. "Nervous."

"Extremely," Harry told him with an awkward laugh. "I've been going over my speech constantly. I've had it finished for a while but I keep on going back to make changes, I just can't leave it be."

"Perfectly understandable," Remus assured him. "I'd be surprised if you weren't nervous. This is a huge deal."

"I know," agreed Harry, taking in a shaking breath. He frowned. "How's the Ministry?"

"Surviving," Remus assured him. "Not doing much more, admittedly, but we've still got Amos and we've still got Neville, and most importantly we still have the Minister."

"And you," Harry told him.

"I suppose so," Remus admitted.

"How's Dennis doing?" Harry asked.

"I'm not going to lie, he's struggling," Remus told him. "He's got an awful lot of work to deal with now but I can assure you he is up to the challenge. You prepared him well."

"I did my best," Harry said anxiously. "Though I admit I never saw a situation like this coming. He's pretty much all alone in communications."

"He's got Colin and he's got Lizzie," Remus assured him. "And he's got the wisdom and experience you've imparted on him over the last year and a half. I promise you he'll be fine." Remus hesitated. "On the other hand Demelza might be more of an issue."

"She's struggling?" Harry questioned.

"She hasn't got the same experience of shouldering huge responsibilities as Dennis has," Remus told him. "Although at least she still has fewer responsibilities than Dennis. But she's been the target of a lot of attention, specifically in relation to where you lot are."

"I'll have to find some way to apologise to her," Harry told him. "I'll pass on a message with Seamus, if he doesn't break up with her again." He sighed. "And what about work. What's going on?"

Remus hesitated.

"I really don't think I can discuss this with you, Harry," he said cautiously. "You don't work there any more." Harry nodded in acceptance.

"What about the BMRA?" He asked. "I was supposed to meet with them today, can you tell me anything about that?" Remus hesitated.

"Amos took your place in the meeting," he said before he focused sharply on Harry. "Harry, I've been meaning to ask, this fixation with the BMRA, it hasn't got anything to do…"

"No," Harry assured him, shaking his head. "No, I promise, if that was happening again I'd tell you, I promise. It's just… I don't want anyone else to go through what I did. If the BMRA can figure that out… better for everyone, I think." Remus smiled.

"I agree," he said softly. "And I can assure you that Neville and Amos do too."

* * *

Amos calmly turned the page of the document on his desk, reading the small writing with the care and precision of a master craftsman. The document was due to be ratified shortly, needing only a final check through to be sure nothing untoward had slipped through the cracks.

The sound of a commotion sounded through the closed door of his office and Amos glanced towards it curiously. Pondering just what had caused such a ruckus he had his questions answered as the door to his office opened and in strode none other than the new blonde reporter for the Daily Prophet, sweeping into the office with a sort of unearned confident grace as she smiled down at him.

"Mr Diggory, mind if I have a few words?" She asked sweetly, notebook in hand and quill at the ready. Amos stared at her.

"Ms, you are not allowed in Mr Diggory's office." Luna appeared in the doorway, looking quite shocked by the woman's encroachment into her boss's office. "Ma'am, please return to my desk where I can take your question for Mr Diggory."

"But why trouble you," the woman said with a falsely sweet tone. "Mr Diggory is right here. I am sure he can answer my queries much more efficiently if they are given to him directly."

"Ms, I must insist," Luna started but Amos caught her eye, giving her a simple gesture. Luna fell quiet.

"I'll be at my desk if you need me," she said calmly, leaving the office and closing the door behind her.

The reporter turned to Amos.

"You clearly know how to keep your staff in line," she commented lightly. She took the seat across from him, flipping her notebook open as she did. "Now, let's get down to business. Does the Ministry have any comment about the apparent absence of Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Ms Granger?" She looked at him inquisitively.

Amos ignored the question.

"It is awfully rude to begin a discussion without first introducing yourself," he said simply. The woman gave a light blush.

"My apologies, I thought you knew," she said, not looking particularly bothered by the fact. "I am Liza Smart, I am the replacement for Michael Corner for the Daily Prophet covering the Ministry. Now, let's get back to my question."

"The Ministry has no comment," Amos said simply. "But to remind reporters of the boundaries set to prevent them impeding on the work of Ministry officials."

"Are you busy?" Liza questioned. "Because I was round at Neville Longbottom's office and he seemed extremely so. His secretary was strangely absent and Mr Longbottom appeared unaware of my presence until I announced myself. Tell me, why is Mr Longbottom so busy? I assume it is not usual for Ministry officials to be so overworked."

"It is not unusual at all for Ministry employees to be very busy and that is why we maintain a firm policy of ensuring reporters keep out of Ministry business outside of press briefings," Amos said firmly. "You are new here so you may not understand but it is impossible for Ministry employees to work with reporters breathing over their shoulders."

"But is perfectly possible for Ministry officials to hide things when they lock themselves away in their office to avoid tough questions," Liza countered. "I have a duty to the public to report what is happening here at the Ministry, if you don't like that then you'll just have to deal with it."

"Oh, I assure you, we will," Amos said easily. "You may not realise it but the relationship between the Ministry and the reporters it houses is built on trust. The Ministry trusts that reporters will let them do their jobs while the reporters trust that the Ministry will tell them the truth."

"Put it another way," Amos leaned forward, "barge into my office one more time and I will have your credentials pulled. Harass any of the staff in the Ministry like you have been with Demelza Robins and Neville Longbottom I will have you kicked out of here in an instant and you'll be forced to do your reporting with borrowed notes. If you want to be the Daily Prophet's reporter in the Ministry then you better play by the rules, because if we decide you've overstepped your remit we will tell the Prophet to send somebody else, and they will do it. And if that happens then you can forget reporting on the Ministry and you can go back to the local politics of the Isle of Man, just like you were before Michael left."

Liza sat in stunned silence, her quill hanging limply from her grasp. She gazed at Amos who continued to fix her with his firm, unwavering stare, not for a moment wanting to give her the impression that he was being anything other than serious.

He glanced at his watch.

"Now, I have work to do," he said simply. "If you would be so kind as to exit my office, any questions you have can be discussed at the next press briefing." Liza rose to her feet.

"You can't hide the truth forever," she told him with a shaky voice. "Eventually people will rebel against the Ministry's secrecy."

"Good day, Ms Smart," Amos said firmly. "Now please join your fellow reporters, and perhaps take the time to learn from them. That will be all."

Liza looked infuriated, insulted to be dismissed in such a fashion, but there was no reason for her to stay any longer. She strode out briskly, blonde hair flapping behind her as she went, and, satisfied he'd got his point across, Amos turned back to his document.

Fifteen minutes later he had completed his read through, concluding the document was ready, and he rose to his feet to venture out of his office.

"Luna," he said quietly. "Would you please pass this over to the Minister's office for his signature. Daphne should be expecting it."

"Of course, Mr Diggory," Luna said promptly, standing up and accepting the file from him. "And I apologise, Mr Diggory, for not stopping Ms Smart before she reached your office."

"You did what you could," Amos said simply. "Do not concern yourself with it." He glanced around. "I'll be away from my office for a moment," he told her. "I'll see you shortly." And he strode away.

Amos walked through the corridors of the Ministry briskly, his destination firmly in mind as he approached the office of the Deputy Chief of Staff. The desk outside the door was empty, Hannah Abbott absent as Liza Smart had indicated, and with Amos having a suspicion as to why he moved past the assistant's desk to the door, knocking and entering without waiting for a response.

"Amos," Neville gasped, looking up from his work. His office was a mess, papers lying everywhere, no clear order to them, and to complete the look a blob of ink lay smudged on Neville's cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," Amos told him, closing the door behind him and taking a seat across the desk. Neville looked uncertain.

"What's happened?" He asked anxiously.

"Nothing," Amos told him. "But I was curious about your absence from the senior staff meeting earlier." Neville's eyes went wide.

"I forgot," he gasped, sounding shocked. "Amos, I'm so sorry. I was so bogged down with work…"

"You didn't realise the time," Amos completed for him. "I saw Hannah was strangely absent. Would I be correct in assuming you sent her away to help Colin and Lizzie in communications?"

"They needed the help, Dennis is swamped over there," Neville told him. "And so is Demelza. I can't believe I forgot, I was supposed to come by her office for the senior staff meeting."

"She was there," Amos assured him. "As was Dennis. And while both of them are severely overworked they both managed to find the time to join us. You, on the other hand, were nowhere to be found, and now that I know Hannah hasn't been with you I can begin to understand how that happened."

"Dennis needed the help," Neville argued.

"You both need the help," Amos said firmly. "Neville, take a look at yourself. You are tired, you are stressed, you are trying to juggle a hundred different things at once, and you are trying to take on all the responsibility."

"I'm just trying to help," Neville told him. "Dennis and Demelza, they don't have the experience for this. It's my job as one of the last senior advisors remaining to help them with the workload until they're ready for it themselves."

"And in the meantime who will help you?" Amos pointed out. "Look at your desk, Neville. Just look." Neville looked down at the papers scattered everywhere, ranging across at least a dozen different subjects, thrown out of order, in no form of organisation.

He slumped in his seat.

"Don't beat yourself into the ground, Neville," Amos said with a sigh. "If this were a year ago I would likely have buried myself into a pit just like you have. But this can't go on. I'm bringing in a few old colleagues of mine."

"Amos," Neville protested but Amos held up a hand.

"They are not here to replace you," he said simply. "Or to replace Demelza or Dennis for that matter. They are to be trusted hands upon which you can pass off some of the smaller items so that you can dedicate yourself and your focus fully to what is actually important and what needs your specific supervision."

"Okay," Neville said softly. "I suppose that does sound like a good idea." He sighed, hanging his head in exhaustion and shame.

"Don't believe that this is a result of your failure, Neville," Amos told him firmly, matching Neville's gaze as the younger man looked up. "I've been thinking about doing this ever since we knew Harry, Ron and Hermione would be leaving us. All day you have been attempting to do the work of three men, no one can manage that. So take a breath, relax, and get Hannah back by your side ready to start over tomorrow morning."

Neville did as Amos suggested, breathing in deeply, his posture starting to loosen ever so slightly as he began to let go of the stresses that had been heaped upon him. He opened his eyes.

"Thanks, Amos," he said softly. Amos gave a small grunt in response. "Your people will be in place tomorrow?" Amos nodded. "Okay then."

"Don't work yourself too hard, Neville," Amos warned as he rose to his feet. "Otherwise you'll end up like me." He gave the younger man a wry grin before he left the office and disappeared from view.

* * *

"Wow, look at this place," Ginny gasped as she strode into the room Harry was renting, smiling brightly as Harry stood up to greet her with a kiss. "This may just be the fanciest room I've ever been in. And that may even include the Ministry ballroom."

"I know what you mean," Harry said with a smile. "There are at least a dozen towels in the bathroom, all soft and fluffy. There are dressing gowns in the wardrobe. Slippers too, and not the cheap ones either."

"We're truly living the life of luxury," Ginny grinned, gazing around. "And just look at that bed. We'll have to find some way to break that in later."

"Oh, are you randy, Mrs Potter?" Harry grinned.

"Always for you, Mr Potter," Ginny grinned back, leaning in and kissing him again.

As their lips separated she took a breath, her expression turning serious, and she looked up into his face.

"How are you feeling?" She asked softly. "Nervous?"

"You could say that," Harry murmured, though with Ginny in his arms the feeling had all but vanished. "This is it. The big moment. No turning back. If I announce tonight I've set myself down a path, and I'll be tied to wherever it may lead me."

"No second thoughts?" Ginny wondered.

"Plenty," Harry told her. "But I've made up my mind."

"Good," said Ginny. "So long as you're decided there is nothing to worry about." She leaned her head softly against his shoulder and sighed. "And how are things going with the staff? You've brought a lot of them over. I hope the Ministry aren't too mad."

"Me too," said Harry, letting out a nervous chuckle. "To be honest I haven't really seen many of the staff. It's just how elections work. There's so many people working for me already that I've never met. I'll probably never meet them. For me it's just the same as I've always been used to; Ron, and Hermione, and Cho, and Dean and Seamus…"

"It's good that you brought them in," Ginny told him. "I think they could be a great help."

"And it stops me from stealing away Dennis, or Colin, or Demelza too," Harry said with a soft laugh. Then he sighed.

"Remus is here at the moment," he noted. "Saying hello. He told me how difficult it's been for the others back at the Ministry."

"That's not your fault," Ginny warned him. "You've done everything right. And the Ministry will figure it out. I know the three of you are really important but Amos is still there, Neville is still there, and you've been training Dennis for this moment ever since you hired him, even if you didn't realise quite how things would turn out."

"I suppose so," Harry admitted. "I suppose things will start to quieten down after a while."

"They will," Ginny promised. "Harry, trust me, the Ministry will figure it out. What you have to concentrate on is the campaign. Nothing else."

"You're right," Harry admitted, a small smile crossing his face. "How is it you're always right?"

"I just have a gift," Ginny murmured and she raised her lips to his, kissing him fully and sensuously and very easily making it so that Harry began to forget about everything and anything but her in his arms.

The sound of voices from outside brought an end to Harry's delight and he broke the kiss, glancing to the door. The noise was quite loud but no one appeared to be coming in.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, looking a little put out as she glanced to where Harry's attention was drawn.

"Don't know," Harry muttered and, releasing his grip on Ginny's waist, he crossed to the door and pulled it open.

"I'm sorry Colin, but I made my choice," Cho's slightly hysterical voice drifted through the doorway as Harry glanced out of the room. She was pacing in the hallway beyond, not noticing that Harry had appeared as she held her phone to her ear, deeply upset. "Colin, please, stop talking like this. I didn't mean to abandon you. I didn't. You know I never wanted to do that."

"Cho," Harry said softly. Cho whipped around.

"I've got to go," she said shortly into the phone, hanging up swiftly with a pained look on her face before she quickly tried to rearrange her features. "Yes, Harry, what can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering what was going on out here. Was that Colin?" Harry asked. Cho swallowed.

"Yes," she said thickly. "Yes, don't worry about that. He was just checking in. You know what it's like."

"Okay," said Harry slowly, not believing her for even a moment. "Say, Cho, what's my schedule like before the speech? Do I have any meetings?" Cho consulted her clipboard.

"Not for another twenty minutes," Cho told him, swiping discretely at her eyes as she consulted her clipboard. "That would be a meeting with Ron, Hermione, Dean and Seamus to go over everything before you go on stage. Would you like me to make any adjustments?"

"No," Harry said quickly, a small smile crossing his face. "No, not at all. I just wanted to know how much time I've got. I'm just going to take some private time, can you make sure no one disturbs me until the meeting?"

"Of course," Cho told him.

"And if you weren't already then could you join that meeting as well?" Harry asked. "Oh, and see if Remus is still around. If he is I'll want to say goodbye before he leaves."

"Yes sir," Cho told him, quickly noting everything down. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, Cho, thank you," Harry told her. Cho nodded.

"I'll be downstairs," she told him and she walked off, her high heels muffled by the plush carpet of the hotel.

As she went Harry glanced both ways down the hallway, making sure no one was coming towards them, and quickly shut the door, locking it behind him.

"Why, Mr Potter," Ginny crooned, fixing him with a sly look. "Twenty minutes alone? What possibly could you have planned?"

"Shut it," Harry mumbled, pulling his tie off roughly and throwing it aside. "We're on a timer." And his lips caught her's as together they fell back onto the magnificently luxurious bed, clothes quickly being divested as they forgot all about what was going on downstairs.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the room was much busier. Harry and Ginny sat together upon the bed, the covers suspiciously wrinkled, a fact which their guests either didn't notice or chose not to comment on, with Hermione, Ron, Dean, Seamus and Remus standing around them, Cho hovering at the door with her clipboard in hand.

"I think it's about time I take my leave," Remus announced, moving forward to shake Harry's hand firmly. Harry stood to hug him, clapping him on the back. "Good luck with your speech, Harry. I'll be watching."

"See you later, Remus," Harry told him. "And remember, you are always welcome to drop by any time."

"I'll keep that in mind," Remus said with a smile before, bidding everyone farewell, he stepped from the room, closing the door behind him.

"Right, so the speech is in just over half an hour," Hermione started, getting down to business. "Let's go over the details for the event."

"To start we've moved it to nine thirty, right," Harry clarified. "Just because if we haven't we're a bit short on time."

"We have," Dean assured him. "Seamus has arranged it to be carried live on WNN."

"Not SNC?" Ginny asked interestedly.

"They have a documentary going on at the moment, it takes up this spot every week," Dean informed her. "We thought it would be easier to negotiate with WNN."

"For that matter Ecclestone used SNC," Seamus told her. "It's nice to go for a different network rather than just follow him. Though Brandy announcing a few days ago wasn't helpful."

"Either way we're on at nine thirty and we're being nationally televised," Ron said briskly. "We've got the stage and podium all set up, Dean's been overseeing that, and we've got Darrel Pierce downstairs ready to introduce you."

"He's okay doing this?" Harry asked.

"Harry, he owes you a huge debt for getting him elected," Ron reminded him. "You carried that campaign. I'm surprised he didn't name his first born son after you."

"It would be a better name than Trent," Seamus commented under his breath. Ron looked like he was only just holding back from agreeing.

"Anyway, everything is ready for your entry," Ron told him.

"Including yourselves?" Harry asked. "You and Hermione will be sitting behind me."

"And Ginny," Hermione agreed. Ginny clutched Harry's hand supportively. "We'll be in place from the very beginning so Dean is going to be in charge of looking after you before you go on. When Councillor Pierce introduces you Dean will show you onto the stage, you'll shake hands with Pierce, maybe share a couple of words, and then you'll give your speech. Your speech is ready, right?"

"More than ready," Harry said with a small grimace. "I have had whole dreams of me just reading it out, I've got it down pat."

"Good," Hermione told him. "Well then, after you're finished you should do the normal sendoff, wave to the crowd and whatnot, then you should turn to Ginny and the two of you will walk off stage together being all young and attractive and in love as you actually are."

"And you should be shaking hands with people as you go," Ron added. "Everything you do should be aimed at making you seem young, energetic and personable."

"Got it," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "Is that everything, then?"

There was a brief silence.

"Okay," he said. "I think we're ready. I'll see you later."

"We'll be downstairs," Hermione told him. "Pierce indicated he'd like to speak with you so we might send him up before he goes on to speak. Other than that Dean will come get you when it's time."

"Okay," said Harry. "See you later." They started to leave. "Cho, could you stay behind?"

Ginny glanced at Harry, realising that he wanted to have this conversation in private.

"Dean, could you help walk me through my role of the proceedings?" She asked brightly, springing from her place on the bed to follow him out.

"Yes, Ma'am," Dean told her.

'Ma'am,' Ginny mimed back at Harry in disbelief, causing Harry to chuckle, before she and the rest of the staff disappeared out the door, leaving only Cho behind.

Harry turned to her.

"Are things going okay?" Harry asked.

"Perfectly," Cho said immediately. "You heard the others, everything is running smoothly."

"That's not what I meant," Harry reminded her. "I was talking about Colin." Cho's mouth snapped shut. "Is everything okay with the two of you?"

Cho bit her lip.

"It's been…" she said quietly, letting out a sigh. "It's been stressful, since I left. Colin's got a lot of stuff to do at the Ministry and he understands Ron leaving, and of course you, but me… he feels like I've betrayed him."

"You haven't," Harry assured her.

"I know," Cho said quickly. "I know I haven't done anything wrong, and I want to work here, to help you get elected. It's just…"

"You care what Colin thinks of you," Harry finished for her. Cho fell quiet. "And it is difficult for you to be here without Colin's support." Cho nodded.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she told him. "I know I shouldn't be so hung up on this. I want to work with Colin, of course I do, but this campaign is so much more important than that and I want to work for you and help get you elected. I know if I just keep going I'll be able to sort myself out eventually, and Colin will calm down about it too. It's just a bit difficult at the moment."

"I'm not surprised," Harry told her. "You and Colin… well, the two of you have been skirting around each other for years."

"I'm sorry," said Cho, confused.

"Ever since the Christmas Ball when you went as his date, remember," Harry reminded.

"That was only to get his family off his back," Cho protested. "That wasn't real."

"So you say but it keeps on happening," Harry told her. "And I was there, Cho. Do you really think you're going to convince me that there is nothing between you?"

Cho bit her lip, ducking her head. "That shouldn't matter," she told him firmly. "I'm here to do a job, to help you."

"What if I don't need your help, Cho," Harry told her. She looked up, stunned. "I love that you've followed me into the campaign, it means so much to have you here … but I will manage without you. You're miserable here at the moment, and trying to cover it up with work. And Colin, he misses you so bad, that's why he's taking this the way he is. Don't ruin that just for me."

"I just…" Cho sniffed. "I don't want to abandon you," she said. "I promised to help you. I gave you my word that I would be there for you in this campaign. I can't betray you like that."

"You wouldn't be," Harry told her firmly. "Cho, I can't tell you whether you should leave the campaign or not, because only you can decide that. But you have to think about it logically. Who is more important to you, me or Colin? I think I know the answer to that."

Cho gave him a watery smile. "Me too," she murmured.

Harry smiled. "You're a brilliant woman, Cho," he told her with a fond look. "You've been a wonderful assistant. I'll miss you, but I know it's for the best." He walked towards her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that she returned desperately, her teary eyes pressed into his shoulder and soaking into his shirt.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered. "For everything." Harry just held her tighter, then he let go.

"Now, go get him," he told her, smiling down as he saw her face break out into a truly beautiful smile. She wiped the tears from her eyes, beaming under his proud look, and nodded her head assuredly.

"Good luck, Harry," she told him.

"Good luck, Cho," he replied.

* * *

Remus stepped from the lift, moving into the quiet Ministry. Most of the staff had left for the day, and with several of the more committed staff members now no longer working there, Harry, Ron and Hermione naturally included, it seemed even quieter than ever. As he stepped into the communications centre he found it completely empty, but for one staffer.

"Hannah," Remus greeted in surprise. Hannah looked up.

"Remus," she said with a smile. "What are you doing here? I thought you were done for the day."

"I was visiting Harry and the campaign," Remus told her, glancing around. "I just came back to speak with the Minister. How are you? Are you working here now?"

"Just for today," Hannah told him with a slightly strained smile. "It's been bedlam here, Neville's been trying to cover for everyone else so he sent me to help Dennis and the others here."

"But just for today," Remus noted.

"I'm heading back to Neville tomorrow morning," she told him. "I'm just gathering my things together. Amos has apparently called in a few favours and got some of his old colleagues to help us out. I assume that probably means an assistant for Demelza at the very least, maybe a deputy for Dennis."

"Sound like a smart idea," Remus commented.

"Enough about me," Hannah told him, shaking her head. "How's the campaign? How's Cho?"

"The campaign is running full steam ahead," Remus said with a smile. "And Cho's right there in the middle of it, looking right at home."

"That's good," said Hannah, though her look was tinged with a touch of melancholy. "It's just been tough not having her around. Even among us secretaries she's a leader around here. Colin in particular has taken it hard." Remus glanced at Colin's vacant desk.

"They've worked together for a long time," Remus agreed. "It's no wonder they struggle to be apart." Hannah sighed.

"Well, anyway, I'm happy for her," she told him, businesslike as she picked up the box that sat on her desk. "And I hope the campaign does well. I'll see you tomorrow, Remus." And she left, heading back towards her desk outside Neville's office and presumably, after that, home.

Remus began his journey through the all but silent Ministry, glancing at Harry and Ron's empty offices as he went, glimpsing Hermione's too, though he knew it wouldn't be considered empty. It had been a tough day for Demelza but hopefully, with a little help from Amos's old colleagues, things would get easier.

He reached the outer office to find Blaise sitting there, all ready to leave but waiting, Remus realised, for the Minister, and by extension himself.

"You'll get to leave soon," Remus promised as he passed, Blaise giving an embarrassed look at Remus's ability to guess what he was thinking, and he stepped to the office door, knocked, and stepped inside.

"Remus," the Minister greeted, standing up from behind his desk in the low light of his office. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten to come back. It's a little late, you know."

"I apologise, I didn't mean to keep you waiting," Remus told him. "I just got so caught up with Harry's campaign that before I knew it hours had passed."

"Reliving old times," the Minister said wisely. "So, how was it? Going well, I assume?"

"They certainly know what they're doing," Remus commented. "No surprise, they've been through all this before."

"All except Harry," the Minister noted. "He's never had to be a candidate before. I can tell you, it's a whole different experience. How's he taking it?"

"He's nervous," Remus admitted. "But excited. Not regretting his decision at all as far as I can tell. His announcement speech is going to be on quite soon I think; nine thirty on WNN."

"Then we should be going," the Minister commented, checking the tie. "We need to get home to watch."

"Yes, definitely," Remus agreed. "But before we go I have something I need to talk to you about." The Minister looked at him, frowning.

"Go on," he encouraged. Remus took a breath.

"After seeing the campaign, and being in that atmosphere again," Remus told him. "I couldn't help myself but begin thinking about the election. I couldn't stop myself from thinking of debates and ads, of photo-ops and meet-n-greets. I well and truly fell into election mode and I realised that, the campaign, that's where I want to be right now."

"What are you saying?" The Minister asked cautiously.

"That I wish to give up my post here and join the campaign," Remus told him. "I know you are understaffed, horrifically understaffed, and I am sorry to be leaving like this. The problem is I just cannot leave Harry to campaign on his own. I have to be there to help him." Remus paused.

"I can get Parvati caught up on everything she needs to take my place," he told the Minister. "She does the job once a month anyway and I am nowhere near as important to this administration as even one of Harry, Hermione or Ron. I'm sorry to cause you more trouble with this but…"

"It's what you have to do," the Minister finished for him quietly. Remus nodded. "I'm not surprised, Remus. I myself wish I could be there to campaign for Harry, though obviously my position disqualifies me. The fact that you would, to the point of leaving your job and joining him, is something I always knew was a distinct possibility. I only wished to be fortunate enough to have you around for a bit longer." He held out his hand.

"Good luck, Remus," he told him. "You have my blessing."

"Thank you," said Remus, accepting his hand with a shake.

* * *

It was raining in the small town that Cho appeared in as a soft pop of apparition indicated her arrival. Looking around hastily, trying to make sure no one had spotted her in what she knew was a highly populated muggle area, she hurried across the road, stepping into the building that sat there and bypassing the security entrance. It had been broken for months, she knew. No one had bothered to take the time to fix it.

Cho's destination was the first floor, one of the first flats you'd pass as you climbed up through the building and, steeling her nerves and reminding herself forcefully why she was doing this, she knocked sharply on the door.

It took a while for someone to answer, in which time Cho huddled into her jacket, wet from the rain and shivering from the cold of the evening, until the door opened, light spilling out upon her, and she gazed upon the man she wished to see.

Colin stood stunned in the doorway, looking so shocked to see her that his frustrations from earlier appeared to vanish entirely. He stood struck dumb, looking out at her cold, wet form, and she stood before him, watching and waiting for him to say something.

"Cho?" He said, his voice surprised.

"Colin," she replied. They stood there in silence.

"Cho, what are you doing here?" He asked, looking around in astonishment. "You're not supposed to be here, not tonight. Aren't you busy with the campaign? With Harry?" The slightest notes of bitterness entered his voice, even beyond his confusion.

Cho took in a shaky breath.

"I'm not going to apologise for going to work on Harry's campaign," she told him firmly, and she saw the expression on Colin's face close up. "It is my choice where I work and I wanted to work on making Harry the next Minister for Magic. I will not feel bad about that. I refuse to do that."

"Of course," Colin muttered, looking away. "But the least you could have done was told me. I'd have gone too."

"I know," Cho told him. "And I'm sorry I didn't warn you, or ask if you wanted to join me. That was wrong and I am sorry. But that's all I'm apologising for. What you've said to me since, on the phone today, that was uncalled for and out of line."

Colin ducked his head in shame.

"I know," he said quietly. "I was just hurt and… and I lashed out. I'm sorry, I just…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I missed working with you. I missed having you there all the time to talk to or ask for help or to give you help when you needed it. It was always the two of us, with our crazy, overly smart, overly committed bosses, trying to keep them on the right track so they didn't burn themselves out or fall into the deep pit of paperwork we sort out for them. I always appreciated it but I didn't know I needed it, not until it was gone. I am sorry for what I said."

"I know," Cho told him. "And I forgive you. We did have some good times. Some great times, even. And I know it has been really difficult for you, with all the new work you've had to take on now that everyone has left and guiding through Dennis and Lizzie, but it hasn't been easy for me either. I've missed you too."

Colin stayed quiet. His anger and frustration from before seemed to have faded, leaving behind only his insecurities and his vulnerability. He looked embarrassed.

"Do you want to come inside?" He asked, gesturing into his flat. "You look freezing."

"I'd love to," Cho told him but she stopped short as he moved to escort her inside. "But before I do that I need to say one more thing. Something important." She took a breath. "I'm returning to my job at the Ministry." Colin looked shocked.

"Cho," he whispered. "You don't have to do that. I thought we'd agreed, you don't need to give up on your job at the campaign just for me."

"I know," Cho told him. "And it's not just for you, or just for Dennis or Lizzie or anyone else still working at the Ministry, it's for me. Working to help Harry get elected Minister for Magic would be a dream, I could not think of a more satisfying job. To help Harry, a man I know, and love, and trust, and respect, a man who I believe will make a fantastic Minister, win this election, is a job I thought I wouldn't trade for anything."

"But when it comes to a choice between you and Harry there really is no contest." Cho looked into Colin's eyes with earnest. "I don't want to work without you and if giving up on the campaign is what it takes to see you every single day then that's what I'll do. You are more to me than a simple colleague, Colin. You are a friend and a confident, my companion in everything these few short years we've been working together at the Ministry, and I cannot be without you. Colin, I…"

But she did not get the chance to finish her sentence as Colin stepped forward, taking her head in both his hands, and placed a searing kiss on her lips.

"I love you," he told her, gazing down adoringly at her face as his kiss ended.

"… love you," Cho finished, gazing up at him with a soft look in her eyes, and she reached forward to kiss him again, feeling years of denied feelings spilling out as she gave herself up so completely, savouring her moment of finally getting what she'd wanted for so long, what she'd denied she'd ever wanted at all, as she fell in love all over again.

* * *

In his hotel room in Liverpool Harry paced up and down, reciting his speech repetitively under his breath. He was alone now, everyone else already in place down in the ballroom where Darrel Pierce was giving his speech, waiting to be called for.

There was a small knock on the door before it opened, Dean poking his head in.

"Ready?" He asked. Harry took a shaky breath.

"Yeah," he said, turning his back on the room and striding out with as much confidence as he could project, into the corridor beyond.

Harry and Dean strode purposefully along the corridors and down the stairs, not meeting anyone on the way there, before they reached the reception area of the ground floor. The sound of Darrel Pierce's speech could be heard from the ballroom, his voice slightly muffled such that his words were hard to make out, and Dean led Harry over towards the entrance, from where they could look out onto the stage.

"I'm glad so many of you could join us here in what I promise will be a historic day," Pierce told the crowd. "Today something special starts. Something you will remember for the rest of your lives."

"Nervous?" Dean asked, glancing at Harry who was rubbing his hands together anxiously, feeling the sweat sticking to them as he tried to wipe them clean.

"Extremely," Harry told him, eyes focused on the podium. "But that doesn't matter. It's go time."

"It is my honour to welcome on to the stage a good friend of mine," Pierce spoke. "Someone who I can say I have had the delight of working with before. Can you please put your hands together and give a great Scouse welcome to Communications Director of the Ministry of Magic, Harry Potter!"

The crowd cheered, though Harry knew it was likely out of pure obligation to Councillor Pierce than it was for him. He'd just have to change that.

"Good luck," said Dean and Harry stepped out onto the stage.

The crowd was huge as he walked across in front of them, waving in greeting with a smile fixed in place as the lights beamed down upon him. To his left sat those that were watching from behind the podium; Darrel Pierce's wife and brother, and Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

Harry reached the podium, giving Darrel Pierce's hand a firm, confident shake, and with smile of gratitude he took up the podium as Darrel faded into the background and left the spotlight solely on Harry.

As the crowd started to quieten down Harry looked out over the room. A teleprompter lay before him, his speech visible and waiting for him to read, but in truth he had no need for it. His speech was memorised. He knew exactly what he was going to say.

Looking past the teleprompter he saw over a hundred faces staring back at him, waiting in anticipation for what he was about to say. Further behind them, situated at the back of the room, were the bank of cameras worked by the members of the Wizarding News Network, watching too with their blank, mechanical stare. As he stood there Harry knew that all across the country people were watching him, waiting for him to speak, and he took a deep breath as he prepared himself one final time.

"Thank you," he said, speaking loudly and clearly for the whole room to hear him. "It is an honour to be welcomed onto the stage tonight with such enthusiasm. And before I begin with what I came here to say tonight I would first like to give a truly heartfelt thanks to Councillor Pierce for being here today and for that wonderful introduction."

The crowd cheered lightly for their councillor and Harry looked back at Darrel, giving him a smile. He turned back to his audience.

"What many of you may not be aware of is that, before joining Arthur Weasley's ministerial election campaign and then taking up the position of Communications Director, I worked for Councillor Pierce in Liverpool City Council." There were more cheers, and Harry felt a genuine smile at the Liverpool pride in the room. It was pride he too felt from his short time in the city.

"It is in fact in this very room that our relationship first began," Harry told them. "Darrel was running for City Council for the first time and I, a young aspiring speech writer, had joined his campaign in the hopes of beginning a career in politics. In fact it was in this very room that Darrel delivered the first speech I ever wrote for him, the first speech ever in my political career."

Harry glanced back at Darrel with a fond look.

"It was the start of a truly incredible partnership," he told them. "It was a partnership that helped get Darrel elected to City Council and it was a partnership that continued on for many years after I took up a position in his City Council office with him. And while I am sad that our working relationship had to come to an end so quickly I am immensely proud of what happened next."

"I joined the Minister's campaign at the behest of Ron Weasley," he told them. "He told me his father was going to run and, knowing Minister Weasley as I did, I could not think of a better person to serve our country as Minister for Magic. And so I made the difficult choice of saying goodbye to my colleagues in this great city of Liverpool," a few cheers broke out, "and joined the soon to be Minister's campaign. The rest, as they say, is history."

A few more cheers broke out, along with applause, though Harry knew it was more for Minister Weasley than it was for him. Either way Harry took a second before he continued.

"What we've been able to achieve since then is more than I could ever dream," Harry told them. "We've improved race relations between ourselves and the goblins, and in doing so we have created a body to help regulate our country's finances and to bring an additional level of security to our economy. We've appointed Councillors to Merlin's Order, bringing in talented and highly qualified witches and wizards and in doing so limiting the effect of those who continue to voice outdated views that are better left off stuck in the past, where magic was considered might and all others were considered lesser. We've lowered crime, increased trade, and cultivated ties with foreign nations to the goal of creating a better, safer, more united world."

"I would like nothing more," Harry continued as a few cheers went up, "than to continue my work at the Ministry of Magic and to continue to help Minister Weasley in his mission to make this country a better country for all of us, and so it was with heartbreak that I discovered that Minister Weasley had decided not to run for reelection."

There were unhappy murmurings from the crowd, them, like Harry, wishing Minister Weasley would continue. He was much beloved, and had he been running Harry would never have considered doing so himself.

"I do not begrudge the Minister his choice," Harry told the crowd. "In the entirety of the time I have known him he has always been a family man first and foremost and it astounds me the courage and strength of character that he has shown everyday to continue to dedicate his all to making this country a better place, when in his eyes he is doing so to the neglect of his family, those he holds most dear, and those who have always stood beside him and supported him every step of the way."

"If the Minister is watching then I just have one thing to say," Harry said softly, turning his attention purely to the cameras in the back. "On behalf of my wife, Ginny, and my best friend, Ron, you are and you have always been a father to be proud of. You have been kind and supportive and they, along with the rest of your family, have nothing but love and respect for you."

The crowd began to clap, the applause growing louder as everyone began to join in, and Harry took a small step back from the microphone to allow them to give their applause. The Minister deserved it.

Inwardly calming himself as he felt his emotions threaten to well up out of control, Harry let the crowd clap themselves to a finish before he stepped forward to the mic once more.

"It goes without saying that I, too, respect you," Harry said and the crowd cheered once more. "You have been a leader, a role model, and an inspiration to everyone in this great nation, and once your term comes to an end the country will be worse off with you no longer there to lead it forward." Harry took a breath.

"Which brings me to why I'm here today," he announced. "The good work of Minister Weasley must not be forgotten or pushed aside. Our nation needs to grow wealthier, our streets need to become safer, and our hearts need to be more open as we look forward to truly and fully banishing the remnants of our past that have held us back as a community for so long. This tenure of Minister Weasley cannot end with a new Minister who has no care or respect for everything that he has accomplished and worked to achieve, cannot end with someone coming in and taking his office who does not understand the good that has been done, someone who may very well look to take measures to undo what has been achieved, and to pull our country backwards where it no longer belongs."

"The only way Minister Weasley's time in office can end is with the knowledge that the new Minister coming in will be there to continue on from the framework that Minister Weasley will have left behind, and to continue to improve upon what has already been improved and to fight, with everything they have, for those things that Minister Weasley was unable to accomplish, though he tried so hard to achieve, in his four short years as Minister. We need someone who knows what he's done, who knows why he's done it, and who knows how to take his greatest achievements forward as our country moves forward with it."

"And that is why, standing here in the place where my political career first began, I am announcing to you my candidacy for Minister for Magic," Harry said firmly and the room burst with applause.

"This country needs someone who is willing to fight for what our current Minister has been fighting every day to achieve," Harry called over the roar of the crowd, facing out to the cameras at the back with determination. "This country needs someone who has seen first hand what it is like in those highest positions of government, who knows what to do and what not to do, and who knows how to get things done for the good of all the people, whether they be rich or poor, young or old, muggleborn or pureblood."

"This country needs a politician the likes of Minister Weasley," Harry told them. "A politician who puts the needs of the people above all, who puts empathy above politics, who puts the good of the nation before his own comfort, and who always, always, tries to do what is right, not what is easy. A politician who judges the decisions he makes, not by whether they are politically advantageous or are of some sort of personal advantage to himself or his family or friends, but by the simple question, the terrible, complicated, fundamental question, of 'is this the right thing to do?' For the people, for the country, for all of us standing here and watching on TV and for every single person that inhabits this planet."

"I am Harry James Potter," Harry roared over the cheering crowd. "And on this day, in this room, I am asking you, on May thirty-first, to elect me as your next Minister for Magic!"

* * *

 **A/N:** And that's it for this chapter. #PotterforMinister

Also at this point I'm going to ask something from you. There will be a debate during Harry's campaign and it will cover a range of issues. What I want from you is suggestions for things that could be discussed. These can be real world problems that could also be present in the magical world, problems you think might come up specifically in magical Britain, or things that have been mentioned in previous chapters that you would like to hear more about. I've got a fair few things already lined up but if you have suggestions I'd love to hear them and see if I can add them to the story.

As always please leave a Review if you enjoyed and follow me on Twitter (and don't be afraid to use #PotterforMinister :P) for more updates.

Until next time.


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